California Dreamin'
by deathsteel
Summary: The Neighbourhod gets its fair share of celebrities and bartender Dean Winchester has pretty much seen it all, but when an intriguing stranger catches his eye one evening will the differences in their lives be enough to keep them apart? Human AU Destiel pairing and yes, slash.
1. Chapter 1

Dean hadn't expected to like California, scratch that. He hadn't expected to like San Francisco. He knew before the move that he would love California. It had everything that he could never get in Kansas, the sandy beaches, the almost year round summer weather, the surfing (which he had turned out to be really good at), seafood at almost every meal, Disneyland.

That had been the deal breaker, Disneyland. It was the first place he and Sammy had stopped at besides crappy hotels, gas stations, and diners on their last brotherly road trip before the younger man started at Stanford in the fall. And man, it had been beyond awesome.

The food and the rides and drinking beer in Little Germany and making out with that guy who played Peter Pan in the backstage, employees only area of the park while Sam got his picture taken with Cinderella. Yea, that little vacation had been one for the scrapbooks, the ones Ellen made. Not the ones that he never finished himself.

It had been hard to leave Anaheim and continue north, but Los Angeles was cool. Too full of ass kissing wanna-bees for Dean's taste, but all of the old Hollywood stuff was pretty neat and he almost convinced Sam to camp out in front of Ryan Gosling's house for the night before they had been scared off by the patrolling policemen in the upscale neighborhood. He had found out that he had the same sized hands as John Wayne and he made his little brother take a picture of him in front of Mann's Chinese theater to commemorate the moment.

Eventually they made it to the town that got its namesake from Sam's new school and Dean managed to kick around long enough to help his little brother unpack into his cramped college housing appropriated apartment before getting restless and moving on to San Francisco which was just under an hour away. Close enough that he could still keep an eye on his baby brother, but far enough away that Sam would be able to finally have his own life for once.

He sublet his first apartment in the city from a guy who was moving to Germany to live with his artist boyfriend and Dean was more than happy to see the flamboyant little man leave so that he could white wash over the large, graphic nude painting that the boyfriend had chosen to grace the living room walls with. It was small, with a bedroom that was barely big enough to fit his king size memory foam mattress, but it was less than five blocks from the beach and it was rent controlled. Two things that were too tempting to ignore in favor of larger accommodations.

Dean looked for a job as a mechanic, it was what he had done in Kansas after all and with references from Rufus and Bobby he figured it would be a breeze. He was wrong, everyone wanted someone who worked on foreign cars, Audis and Benzs, or who did custom paints jobs and airbrushing on tricked out Escalades and El Caminos. Dean just wanted to work on old cars, leave all of the fancy finishing touches to someone who didn't think that every car should only be painted black like his own 1967 Impala was.

So he took a job as a bartender, if there was anything that Dean Winchester did better than fixing rusted out engines it was drinking. He was lucky enough to find a bar that was hiring fairly close to his apartment and it was a normal bar too, not one of the many drag bars that seemed to be everywhere in San Fancisco or one of the tacky tourist traps that were located closer to the beach.

The Neighbourhood was trendy, intimate and inviting all at the same time. It was the kind of place where you could go if you wanted to dance and socialize, but was upscale enough that some of the biggest business deals in the city had taken place in the secluded alcoves and VIP only access areas of the club. It saw its fair share of celebrities, but most nights it was just the usual mid-level movie executives or entourages waiting around for their more famous friends to call them to their sides.

Dean walked into the club after a long day spent surfing and giving Baby a much needed oil change. He was happy that the Oscars had aired the week before because he really wasn't in the mood to deal with all of the pomp and circumstance that the club put on for their annual viewing party that they hosted.

He had been working the main area of the club that night and while the tips had been good, he had been beset upon my weepy boys who were just heartbroken that Hugh Jackman had been robbed of his award. Normally he liked the attention that his looks got him, but that night he had wanted nothing more than a good hard fuck from someone who would take control of the tryst and he sure as hell wasn't going to get it from one of the wispy twinks that had been all over him that night.

"Winchester!"

He looked around for who was calling his name as he made his way towards the employee area of the club where he could set down his jacket and keys before clocking in. He spotted his manager, Meg, a short no-nonsense brunette flagging him down from where she was standing with one of the bouncers going over the list of approved guests for the VIP area.

Dean wandered over, navigating around the talking, laughing clusters of people who were already in the club despite it only being 9pm.

"I'm putting you in VIP tonight." Meg said flipping through the pages on the clipboard she was holding.

"Any specific reason why I'm being punished?" Dean asked trying to peek at the long list of celebrities that only rarely bothered with coming to the upscale bar.

"Well," Meg said glancing down at her watch. "As of two minutes ago, you're late and I just think Anna needs a break from getting hit on by producers all of the time."

"So, I get hit on instead?"

"Come on, Dean. Don't act like you don't love it."

"Fine," he sighed taking a step away from the shorter woman. "But you owe me."

"Drinks at mine after work? I'll make waffles and we can compare horror stories for the night."

"Deal."

Dean moved quickly through the motions of dropping his stuff off in one of the employee lockers and stopped to glance at himself in the mirrored hallway on his way towards the smaller, quieter VIP section that he would be working in that night. He was getting tan from spending so much time outside, freckling a little bit more but that was ok. He straightened the neckline of the dark Henley he had worn to work that night and pulled his sleeves up on his arms. Dean shot his reflection his trademarked smirk and thought to himself that he looked too damn good to be going home alone again tonight.

He served drinks to the few people who were sitting around the small bar and then started tackling the orders from the two waitresses who worked the VIP area, both blondes who worked for one of the area's modeling agencies during the day, Jess and Jo.

They resembled each other enough that they could be sisters, but their personalities were entirely different, Jess was soft spoken sweet and smart and Jo was sarcastic, sharp tongued and catty. But they got along well and Dean envied their close friendship because while he got along well with Meg, it was different to have a roommate or lover you could come home to, who just _knew_ what your day had been like by looking at you.

He sang along with some of the music that the DJ was playing as he mixed cocktails and expertly poured shots. Ash always tried to play something that he knew whatever bartender was working would like. He would mix in upbeat pop hits with classical music for Anna and for Dean he would spin classic rock and 80s mash-ups that were sometimes hilarious (Dean had burst into laughter the first time the wiry man introduced Def Leppard's 'Pour Some Sugar on Me' and Queen's 'We Will Rock You' into the normal rotation on the nights he worked VIP), but usually very good.

Ash had just put on 'It's a Long Way to the Top' by AC/DC, which was pretty much Dean's ultimate power ballad, when Jo sidled up to the bar, balancing her black serving tray on her hip.

"Hottie alert." She said looking down toward the other end of the bar from where Dean was stacking dirty cups into a black plastic tote.

Dean glanced behind him, Jo had notoriously horrible taste in men and her obsession with bad boys was well known by all of The Neighbourhood's employees, before doing a double take at the only person that she could possibly be looking at.

"Dibs," Dean said looking at the man with what he was sure was the most stupid expression on his face. He could feel it, he could feel the stupid on his face.

"No way!" Jo said leaning across the bar top to punch him in the shoulder. "I saw him first."

"Who?" Jess asked clattering a tray of empty cups onto the bar and wiping her prettily perspiring forehead.

Dean nodded at the man sitting at the end of the bar who was too engrossed in whatever he was looking at on his phone to notice that he had the attention of several people on him. The guy was just too, gorgeous and Dean figured he probably didn't even know it.

The man was slim, wearing a rumpled looking grey suit with a white dress shirt and blue tie that had been loosened so that he could undo the top two buttons on his shirt. There was an equally wrinkled tan trench coat draped across the back of his chair and he had a pair of dark framed glasses sitting in front of him on the bar. He had messy dark brown hair that looked like he had either just been seriously fucked or woken up from a very debauched dream, there was at least a day's worth of stubble on his cheeks, but Dean liked his men a little less than clean cut; that rasp of almost beard against his skin was one of the things that just drove him crazy. He had pale, pale skin and long thin fingers that flew over the keys of his phone.

"That guy is a total 'mo." Jess said matter of factly, leaning over to grab three beers out of the ice bin next to Dean's hip and popping the tops off with her bar key. She took a long swig of one of them and then made an up down gesture with the bottle in her hand. "Jo, come on. You can fully tell. Let Dean have him."

Jo sighed and picked up the second beer, "You think? Man, maybe I'm losing my touch. I need to get laid."

"Me too." Dean said gulping when the man looked up from his phone confusedly before he spotted the bartender and waitresses across from him. God, the guy just had the bluest fucking eyes. Were eyes allowed to be that color, was it legal?

"Then go get him, tiger." Jo said, reaching over to give him a playful slap on the butt.

Dean grabbed the remaining beer and downed it in several long swallows; he needed to get his confidence up because this guy was so out of his league. He walked over to the man on shaky legs and let his most winsome smile fall onto his face.

Up close the guy was probably even more handsome, like movie star handsome. Dean watched as he picked up his glasses and placed them back on his perfect nose and god, it was just the cutest gesture and the only thing that could make it better would be if they were held together by masking tape in the center. The other man licked his chapped pink lips and Dean knew that he should probably be saying something right about now, asking him what he wanted to drink, doing his job, something.

"Hi, uh can I get a beer?" The man asked and Dean looked back over his shoulder at the two blondes who were still watching him with amused expressions on their faces, mouthing 'Oh my god' at them.

This guy's voice was like sex on the rocks. He would listen to anything this guy wanted to read to him, fucking descriptions of medieval torture techniques, if it meant that he would just keep hearing that deep, gravelly voice. It was throaty and rusty and he hoped the guy didn't smoke like ten packs a day to get that voice because it would just ruin the whole innocent image of him that Dean had going in his head.

"Anything in particular?" Dean asked leaning against the bar and smiling at the other man cheekily.

The man's mouth twitched and he gave Dean a long look before leaning back and striping off the jacket of his suit. "Just whatever you have on tap is fine."

"Coming right up, sweetheart." Dean said turning and grabbing one of the pint glasses from under the bar and then filling it at the tap with his own favorite brand with practiced motions. He did this so many times every night; he could probably do it in his sleep.

When he returned with the golden, foamy beverage the man had already rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt and loosened his tie even more. Dean watched as he gratefully accepted the beer and took a long drink of it; the muscles in his throat working overtime as he downed at least half of the drink in that first go. The man let out a long sigh when he set the glass back down and then ran a hand through his hair, making it form into new and interesting shapes that defied all of the laws of gravity.

"Long day?" Dean asked, thankful for probably the first time ever that he was working the VIP area because he could take the time to talk to this guy a little more since there weren't as many other customers to take care of.

"Long week," the guy replied drawing shapes in the water that was condensing off of his glass on the bar top. His phone buzzed and vibrated next to him and he made a face before he picked it up and looked at who was trying to contact him. The man glanced up at Dean and then back down at the phone in his hand before hitting the ignore button and setting it back down. "I just got out of the meeting from hell."

"What do you do?" Dean noticed as the other man hesitated slightly at the question. "If you don't mind me asking."

"I work in film. I'm a—"

"Wait!" Dean said holding up a hand at the other man and putting the other up to his temple like he was a mind-reader. "Let me guess. I'm really good at this."

The man smiled and leaned back in his chair, giving Dean the opportunity to take in more of his body and damn, what a body. Even under the rumpled suit it was easy to see that the guy took care of himself, probably ran or did yoga judging from the toned muscles moving under the thin material of his dress shirt. A shirt that probably cost more than everything in Dean's wardrobe combined.

"You're a writer. A screenwriter, but that's not what you do. You're job is producing and you just got done negotiating with some high strung diva somewhere for the next the movie you're working on. Some romantic comedy where boy meets girl, misunderstandings ensue and everyone lives happily ever after once they get their heads out of their asses."

"Amazing." The man said smiling widely at Dean, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle merrily.

"I was right?"

The man nodded, "I don't understand why you think I'm a producer who secretly wants to be a writer though."

Dean shrugged, "Everyone here is chasing a dream. Most of them end up having to settle for something they don't really want to be doing, but everyone's got bills to pay. Y'know?"

"So what are you?" The man asked leaning across the bar towards Dean who found himself moving to mirror the position, perching on his folded arms and meeting the intriguing, beautiful man halfway. "A struggling actor? No a model? Maybe a stuntman moonlighting as a bartender till you hit it big? Get cast as Brad Pitt's stunt double or something?"

He laughed at that, it wasn't the first time someone thought he was a model, but stuntman was new. "No. I'm just a mechanic with a rule about not working on cars that are younger than me."

"How's that working out for you?" The man asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Tonight, it's working out pretty well. Name's Dean. Dean Winchester." He stuck out his hand for the other man, realizing it was kinda pointless since they were right in each other's faces anyway.

The other man reached across the small space separating them and wrapped his slim, perfect fingers around Dean's outstretched hand. His grip was firm, sure and warm. "Castiel. Castiel Krushnic."

Dean quirked his eyebrow at the name, "Russian?"

"My father," the man answered smiling. "Shouldn't you be working or something, Dean?"

Dean shrugged, it was getting late. There weren't many people left in the bar and if he decided to duck out he was pretty sure Jo or Jess could handle things without him. The phone vibrated on the bar again and both men looked down to see a picture of an angry looking man in a black suit flashing across the screen. He looked up to see Castiel biting his lip indecisively, a finger hovering over the ignore button lit up on the touch screen.

"Do you need to get that?" Dean asked lowly causing the man across from him to look up with those wide blue eyes.

Castiel studied Dean's face for a moment before picking up the phone and turning it off, slipping it into the pocket of his suit coat. "Do you want to get out of here?"

He was surprised by the suddenness of the question; usually it was him making the moves on the men he brought home. But he could dig the straightforward way Castiel had asked him. It had sounded possessive made him feel all kinds of sexy and wanted by the gorgeous man in the wrinkled suit.

"Jess!" Dean called not breaking eye contact with this man who for some reason had taken an interest in him. He felt like if he blinked then Castiel would disappear. "Tell Meg I had to leave. Something came up."

"Oh, I'm sure something's coming up!" Jo said with a snicker as Jess gave her a long-suffering eye roll and nodded at Dean.

"I have to grab my stuff," Dean said breathlessly coming around the bar as Castiel stood and pulled on his suit jacket, draping his trench coat across his arm. "Just don't move."

He practically ran to the break room, snatching his jacket roughly out of the locker and fumbling with his keys as he searched for the one that would unlock the Impala. Castiel was waiting for him in the mirrored hallway, shuffling his feet and looking around anxiously when Dean emerged from the door marked 'Employees Only'.

Dean stopped, his breath catching in his chest. God, this guy was so fucking gorgeous and he wanted him. Castiel's image, a picture of unstudied beauty, was reflected a million times across the mirrored walls and Dean took advantage of their moment in the dimly lit hallway to step closer to the other man and lean down to place a soft, lingering kiss on those perfect pink lips. He could feel Castiel tense beneath him for a moment before a hand rose to the nape of his neck and he was pulled closer.

Their mouths fit perfectly together and Dean sighed into the kiss. It was exactly how he had thought it would be with the other man; hot and innocent at the same time and it made liquid heat pool in his stomach. If just one kiss did this to him, then he couldn't imagine what else Castiel could do to him if say, he wasn't wearing any clothes.

He broke the embrace and twined his fingers through the free hand that Castiel had managed to place on Dean's waist. With a small tug and a smirk he led him through the back hallways of the bar, avoiding the large crowded main area so that Meg wouldn't ask him why he was ditching the rest of his shift and out to the parking lot.

Dean unlocked his car and climbed into the driver's seat, leaning over to unlock the passenger side door from the inside. Castiel scrambled into the car, looking around nervously and Dean figured that maybe he wasn't out yet. He could understand the other man's unease, Dean had jumped at every little noise and movement the first time he had gone home with another man when he was a teenager, but that was in Kansas where he probably would've gotten his ass kicked for being a fag. This was San Francisco, straight couples got more stares on the streets here than two dudes would.

He started the car and grinned sheepishly at the man beside him when The Police started blaring from the radio. Castiel smiled at him, pushing his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose and sinking down low in the seat as he scooted closer to Dean.

Dean stretched an arm across the back of the seat and Castiel took advantage of the open space to snuggle close to Dean and start placing soft, teasing kisses on his neck and ear. He was getting turned on so fucking much and he wished that he could just blink and they would be back at his apartment.

"You're so beautiful," Castiel murmured in his ear as they were stopped at a red light. Dean shivered as the other man's warm breath ghosted over his skin and Castiel reached a hand over to rest on his thigh.

He turned to the man beside him and lunged in for another kiss, feeling his jeans get tighter as he took in the taste and smell of Castiel. It was like how the air smelled right after a summer rainstorm, like electricity and ozone and broken blades of grass.

A horn sounded behind them and Dean pulled away reluctantly this time, turning his attention back to the road as he broke every traffic law to get to his apartment as quickly as possible.

They stumbled up the four flights of stairs to his apartment, stopping every so often to pull each other into another breathless, bruising kiss that served no other purpose besides making the tense, unexplainable coil of attraction between the two of them wind tighter and tighter. And Dean didn't know how it happened, but he certainly was not going to complain about it when Castiel pressed him hard against his front door once they finally, finally make it into the small apartment.

"Well, hello there." Dean said with a smirk as the other man hovered over him, their faces inches apart as Castiel panted heavily from the climb to their destination.

"Hello Dean." The other man growled out before burying his face in the taller man's neck and inhaling deeply. And, damn if that wasn't just the sexiest thing that anyone had ever done. "You smell really good. Like the ocean and pumpkins."

"Pumpkins?" Dean laughed, pushing slightly on Castiel's shoulders until he could look at the other man's face, his glasses were slightly askew and Dean reached out to tilt them back into place.

"I like pumpkins," Castiel explained leaning forward to kiss him again.

It was soft at first, but then quickly became heated again as the smaller man nibbled on Dean's lower lip. Dean parted his lips slightly allowing his tongue to dart out and taste Castiel's mouth before he was full on assaulted by the man crowding him farther against the door, hands moving possessively to cup the back of his head, fingers sifting through his hair eliciting a groan from Dean.

Dean's hands clutched at the material of Castiel's jacket before he gave up any pretense of being modest and just pushed the coat forcefully off of the other man's shoulders and stared working on the buttons of his shirt next. His fingers were shaking and he fumbled blindly as his mouth worked furiously against Castiel's, it had been too damn long and this was too damn good.

Castiel's mouth moved off of his and Dean let out a strangled sound of disappointment before he felt the other man's skillful lips moving down his jaw and neck to nip playfully at the hollow of his throat as a thigh slipped between his legs, allowing him to grind down and relieve some of the pressure that his zipper was putting on his growing erection.

"Too many clothes," he heard the other man groan into his ear before sucking lightly on his lobe.

Dean made a needy noise low in his throat and flipped Castiel around so that he could quickly strip off his own leather jacket and pull his Henley over his head. He reached out to twist the tie off of the other man and finish unbuttoning the white dress shirt as he felt trembling hands smooth over the tanned planes of his chest and abdomen. Castiel's skin stood out a stark white in the dim apartment and a primal part of Dean liked how it contrasted against his own sun kissed skin.

He pulled on the other man's belt loops, dragging him towards the bedroom as he moved backwards through the small space, navigating easily around the couch and coffee tables that stood between the pair and their destination.

Dean allowed himself to be pushed backwards onto the bed by Castiel when he felt his knees hit the edge of the mattress. The paler man loomed over him and Dean could see how his pupils were blown wide with lust in the soft moonlight that filtered through the windows that faced the ocean. He watched as Castiel kicked off his dress shoes and made quick work of the belt and fastenings of his pants, never taking his eyes off of Dean who had started palming his own erection through his jeans, wanting nothing more than touch himself as he watched his lover undress, but knowing it would be all the better if he waited to be touched by the other man first.

"Fuck," he heard Castiel mutter as he stripped down to just a pair of form fitting black boxer briefs, a sizeable bulge clearly visible even in the dim light. "You're gorgeous."

The smaller man crawled up the end of the bed and hovered over Dean's body as he straddled his hips. Dean leaned up to pull Castiel back down into another kiss, this one slower and sweeter, calming the urgency of the situation enough that Dean could still his rapidly pulsing heart before he came in his pants like a goddamn teenager. He was used to being complimented for his looks, but no one had ever said it so reverently as this amazing person hovering over him, staring into his eyes like he really meant everything he was saying.

Dean plucked the glasses off of Castiel's face and deposited them blindly on the night stand next to the bed, feeling the other man smile into their kiss as they clattered when he dropped them. He allowed his hands to roam over Castiel's back, feeling the hard taunt planes of muscle moving under the smooth skin and reveling in how their bodies seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces.

He groaned when the other man's hand fell to the button and zipper of his jeans and those long fingers made quick work of freeing him from what Dean's lust addled brain had started thinking of as denim purgatory.

Castiel pulled back sharply, looking down in surprise at the fact that Dean wasn't wearing any boxers under his jeans. He quirked an amused eyebrow at the man laying beneath him and laughed when his lover just smirked at him in return.

Dean shrugged against the mattress, "Wishful thinking?'

He flipped the still laughing Castiel over and started down at the breathtaking sight of the smaller man trying to suppress his mirth until it just turned into small, cute bursts of giggles. Dean kicked his boots off and wriggled his way out of his jeans before he started placing his own tender kisses across the shaking man's face, planting them on his eyelids and cheekbones, trailing across his forehead and down his jaw pausing just long enough delve into the other man's mouth for a long, sensuous kiss.

"Amazing, Cas. You're amazing. So handsome and funny. God, I don't think I'll ever get enough of you." Dean whispered the platitudes into Castiel's ear, something he normally wouldn't do when he was trying to just get off with some random dude he met at the beach or one of the few gay bars he frequented. But he really thought Cas was something special and his gut told him that the guy didn't hear it often enough to believe it about himself.

"Say it again." Castiel groaned underneath him, rutting his boxer clad erection against Dean's thigh unabashedly as the man above him gently bit his collar bone and then kissed away the sting.

"I can't get enough of you." Dean said slightly muffled from where his face was pressed into the hollow of Castiel's throat.

"No," the other man said, tugging slightly on Dean's hair to get him to look up. Verdant eyes met cerulean and the electricity in the gaze sparked palpably between the pair. "My name. I like the way you say my name."

Dean smiled and leaned down to kiss the tip of the man's nose, chuckling as the man beneath him went slightly cross-eyed as he watched the action. "Cas."

Castiel moaned and clutched at Dean's shoulders as the larger man started ghosting kisses down his chest, stopping to lavish attention on the dark, pert nipples and kiss the small moles that dotted the pale, board expanse of chest and stomach beneath him. Dean could feel his own erection throbbing as he reached the dark trail of hair leading down from Cas's belly button to mysterious places under those tight black boxers.

He stopped teasingly over the cloth covered bulge and looked up at Castiel from under his eyelashes. The other man was breathing heavily and had one hand fisted in the dark blue sheets covering Dean's bed.

"Dean, please. You're such a fucking tease," Castiel groaned throwing his head back wantonly against the pillows, exposing the long column of his neck.

Dean could see a small dark mark on the other man's collarbone where he had bit him and felt a surge of possessive lust flow through him when he thought of other people seeing how he had marked this perfect man as his own.

He hooked his fingers under the elastic waistband of Castiel's underwear and pulled them off, shuffling around until he was kneeling between legs of the other man. His own cock was curled up tight and aching against his stomach and he felt it twitch as he took in the sight of Castiel fully exposed and laid out on his bed.

The light coming in through the window cast the most beautiful shadows on the sharp angles of Cas's hipbones and he could see the slight sheen of sweat that had formed on the other man's chest . Dean just wanted to spend the next week memorizing every curve and plane of the smaller man's body, but his attention was brought back to their current situation when Castiel thrust his hips into the air desperately seeking friction for his own long member that was jutting up proudly from the dark, thatch of hair where that curious trail had ended.

He settled down on his stomach between the other man's legs and Castiel reached down to cup his face for a moment, their eyes met and Dean forgot how to breathe. He reached out a shaky hand to grasp Castiel's member and gave it a couple tentative strokes, adding a twist of his wrist on the upstroke that caused the other man to groan lewdly.

And that was all it took. Dean had to have Castiel in his mouth like ten minutes ago. He leaned over and steered the red, leaking head of the other man's cock between his lips and was rewarded with Cas twining his fingers through his hair and murmuring encouragement.

"Oh, dear Lord. Yes, Dean. You're so beautiful."

He flicked his tongue into the slit at the tip of Castiel's member and savored the taste of the other man's salty fluid spreading throughout his mouth. Dean bobbed his head experimentally, seeing how far he could go down on the other man before he felt that familiar nudging at the back of his throat.

He pulled away slightly and spread the saliva down Castiel's length, providing his own lubrication as he stroked the writhing man before delving back down to take the rigid fullness back into his mouth; hollowing out his cheeks and humming in contentment as he ground down on the sheets beneath him to relieve the aching in his own cock.

Castiel's fingers tightened in his hair and he could feel the man fighting the urge to thrust up into his mouth. He pulled off of Castiel's cock with a vulgar, wet popping sound and looked up at the man who was struggling with opening eyes to look down at Dean.

When Cas did he was greeted with the sight of the panting man between his legs, mouth mere inches away from his flushed member; mouth red, swollen, and shiny with a mixture of spit and precome. It was probably the hottest thing he had ever seen in his life.

"I can take it, Cas. Just let go." Dean said his voice sounding raspier than usual before he took almost the entire length of Castiel back into his mouth.

Scratch that. Dean swallowing around his dick was the hottest thing he had ever seen and Castiel had seen a lot of exotic things in his life.

He threw his head back and just let himself feel the tight, wet heat of the other man's mouth as he gripped the short strands of Dean's dark blonde hair. He bucked up into Dean's mouth, the first time on accident but when he heard the muffled moan of the other man and felt the vibration of it all the way to his toes he began to thrust into the mouth surrounding him with abandon, part of him still taking care to not make Dean choke.

Castiel felt the familiar tingling at the base of his spine and tried to warn Dean.

"Dean, stop. I'm gonna…I want to….no!"

It took every ounce of strength that he had to pull Dean off of him. He wanted nothing more than to have this fucking Adonis streaked in his come, marked so that everyone could see that he belonged to Castiel Dmitri Krushnic and no one else would ever be allowed to touch him. But that was not how this night was going to end and a sad, rational part of him knew that.

Castiel pulled a confused looking Dean up to his face by his forearms noting how the other man's eyes fluttered as their erections slotted together perfectly. He kissed the man above him deeply and ran his hands over every part of him that he could touch, needing to memorize how Dean felt so that he could look back on this time they had together and remember it in as much detail as possible. Because he was never going to be let out of his overgrown nanny's sight after tonight so he might as well enjoy it.

He kissed the other man like all of the air he would ever need was hiding in Dean's lungs and turned them so he was once again on top of the other man. He needed to be in control of this situation, he needed to make this good for Dean so that the other man wouldn't be giving so much of himself to Castiel.

He balanced himself on his forearms above Dean and stroked away the hair that had fallen onto his lover's forehead, marveling at the way his eyes seemed to glow in the dark room. The kisses became less desperate, more meaningful. Castiel was pouring every unspoken, unasked for promise that he would never make to Dean into those kisses because life wasn't fair and this couldn't work and there would never be a time when his career wouldn't dictate his every move. But tonight, he could make tonight worth it. And that's what he tried to tell Dean as he cradled his face and stroked his sides and thrust his hips slowly against the ones of the man beneath him.

"Cas," Dean breathed into his mouth. "You're so awesome. God, you're amazing. Please don't leave, sweetheart. Please don't leave me."

Castiel shut his eyes as Dean poured forth endearments and pleas and he buried his face in the other man's neck so that he wouldn't see the tears welling up unbidden in his eyes. He reached a hand between them and captured both of their sliding erections in his grip, creating a hot tight tunnel that was eased only by the saliva that Dean had left on his cock.

Their breathing quickened and both men were groaning and muttering incoherent sweet nothings, making the kind of dopamine-induced declarations of affection that most one night stands regretted in the morning, but right now felt like the most sincere things that either man had ever uttered.

"I want you to come for me, Dean." Castiel growled into his lover's ear. He could feel the tingling in his spine and he wanted, no needed to see Dean come undone. God if it was the only good thing he ever did with his life, he needed to give this gorgeous man something to remember him by.

"Fuck, Cas!" Dean groaned and writhed beneath him, grabbing on to Castiel's shoulders as he thrust up into the fist between them. "Tell me your close, please. I need…I'm gonna… Caaasss!"

Dean arched his back off of the bed, hot white spurts of come spilling into the tight space between their chests and as Castiel watched his lover bite his lip in an effort to stifle his moans and felt him grip his arms tight enough to leave bruises he was gone. Reaching his orgasm just moments after Dean did, his vision going white on the edges and his lover's name falling from his lips over and over like a prayer.

He collapsed on the bed next to Dean, being careful not to crush the other man who was still coming down from his own post-orgasm high, chest heaving as he dragged in deep gasping gulps of air. Castiel let a contented smile fall onto his face as he fell his pulse begin to slowly return to normal. His limbs felt heavy and his thoughts were pleasantly fuzzy.

Dean turned to him, propping himself up on one elbow and scooting closer to kiss the corners of Castiel's upturned mouth. Neither man paid any attention to the rapidly cooling mess on their chest and stomachs and Castiel wondered idly if he would have time to take a shower in the morning.

"So that guy who was calling you earlier," Dean asked uncertainly, trailing his fingers over Cas's hipbones and lower abdomen. "That wasn't your boyfriend or anything was it?"

Castiel cocked an eyebow at him and caught Dean's wandering hand, bringing it up to his mouth to place a chaste kiss to the other man's palm. "Shouldn't you have asked that before we did this?"

Dean felt his stomach drop and prepared himself for the inevitable, all of the good ones were always taken, but that didn't mean he liked being made into the other guy.

"He wasn't my boyfriend, Dean." Castiel said noticing the distressed look on the other man's face.

"Really?" he couldn't help the hope that seeped into his voice.

"More like my babysitter or my personal assistant. He makes sure that I'm where I need to be when need to be there." Castiel replied gathering Dean into his arms and carding his fingers through the short locks of the other man's hair.

"So you can stay?" Dean asked resting his head on Cas's chest, hearing the steady beat of the heart beneath the warm, pale skin.

"Yea, I can stay." The rumbling voice replied.

"Good, because I make a mean omelet."

"Wouldn't want to miss that," Castiel murmured sleepily into his hair, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead.

Dean awoke early in the morning feeling more relaxed than he had in ages and it took him a moment to remember why. Thankfully, the warm presence of the body pressed up behind him and the weight of the arm draped over his waist brought back all of the memories from the night before and he smiled into the sheets as he thought about Cas calling him beautiful and gorgeous. Making him feel wanted and safe and sexy.

He slid out of the bed, careful not to disturb the other man and padded quietly over to the bathroom, taking care of his morning ablutions and debating to himself for a moment before hopping into the glass paneled cubicle for a quick shower.

He placed a soft kiss onto Castiel's cheek and slipped on a pair of blue plaid pajama pants before heading to the kitchen to start some coffee and gather the ingredients for his trademark Winchester omelet. There was only one problem, he was out of coffee.

Dean considered for a moment just not having coffee for his guest to drink, but if Castiel was anything like himself then the other man probably wouldn't be able to function without at least some caffeine in him.

He crept back into the bedroom, noticing that Cas was a sprawler when he had the bed all to himself and admiring how the sun played off of the smooth lines of the sleeping man's back, before shoving on his boots and moving into the living room to grab his shirt from the night before off of the floor. He wrote a quick note on the back of a menu for take-out Korean that he had lying on the counter of the breakfast nook and left it on the nightstand next to Castiel's glasses.

He jogged down the four flights of stairs and around the corner to the closest Starbucks, smiling when he ordered the biggest fanciest pumpkin spice latte for Castiel and a cup of black coffee for himself before he made his way back to his apartment. He had to sidestep a black Lincoln town car with darkly tinted windows on his way back , narrowly avoiding being hit since he was too busy wondering if Cas would be up for round two instead of paying attention when he was crossing the street.

Dean toed off his boots when he got back inside the apartment and crept towards the bedroom with the pumpkin flavored concoction, wanting to wake up the other man gently just in case he was the type of person who woke up swinging.

He hadn't expected to find his bed empty when he returned. Dean looked around the small space confusedly, checking the bathroom and small kitchen before he finally noticed that the note he had left had been moved to the small table close to the door where he usually ditched his car keys and wallet when he walked in the door. Underneath his written note, there was another added on in small neat handwriting that was so different from his own messy barely legible scrawl.

_Cas_

_Out of coffee, be back in ten minutes. Make yourself at home._

_XDean_

**Dean**

**Thank you for a wonderful evening. **

**–C**

He looked down at the note for a couple of minutes before crumpling it into a tight ball. He grabbed the coffee he had bought for Castiel off of the counter and calmly dumped it down the kitchen sink, watching the vaguely orange liquid swirl away and allowing the hope he had permitted himself to foster to go with it.

Dean grabbed the bottle of whiskey he kept for emergencies out of the cabinet over the sink and went to sit on the edge of his bed. He took a long draught of the burning liquid and lay down as the warmth spread through his chest. It was only when he realized that his pillow still smelled like summer rain that he finally allowed the tears to fall.

* * *

Author Note:

So I literally knocked this out yesterday on my day off and am just a tiny bit proud of how it came out. This is probably going to be a multi-chapter fic that I will write as time permits in between posting chapters for my other story, Born to Run. Updates will not be regular, sorry. That still doesn't mean I don't value your input so take the time to review and we might all find ourselves pleasantly surprised by how nonexistent my social life is so that I can spend time working on both fics at once.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel was woken by the feel of the mattress beneath him rising slightly as Dean climbed out of the bed. He grumbled softly at the other man, missing his warmth in the bed next to him and watched through cracked eyelids as Dean left the room, his naked back glowing golden in the morning sunlight streaming through the partially raised blinds covering the windows.

He got out of the bed, looking around blearily for his boxers for a moment before he gave up and wandered into the living room in search of his cell phone. Cas found his suit jacket crumpled on the floor near the doorway and smiled at the trail of clothing that led from the entranceway of the apartment to Dean's cozy bedroom before he grabbed his smart phone from where he had abandoned it the night before and thumbed the power button.

The shower was running and he thought about slipping in with the other man as an early morning wake up call, but then the device in his hand started buzzing and he decided that he probably should see what he had missed. He wandered back into the bedroom and collapsed onto his stomach on the soft, springy mattress.

Cas started trying to check his missed texts, but every time he opened up the screen to view them the phone once again rattled in his hand and went back to the home screen. He buried his face in Dean's pillow, shoving his arms underneath and decided to wait out the buzzing so that he could read through everything in one go.

He dozed off again, having a vague, semi-lucid dream about eating breakfast with Dean, sipping coffee and actually getting to know more about one another than what their jobs were. In his dream, he really was a producer. The type of mild-mannered position that would allow him to make enough money to still help his parents, but was anonymous enough that no one cared what he did in his spare time or who he did it with.

Castiel's dream was pleasantly domestic and his mind replaced some of the things in Dean's apartment with his own knick-knacks, making the small space look like he belonged there. Like he and the other man were a couple who had no problems bringing things over to each other's homes and leaving them there, knowing that they would still be around the next time they decided they needed them.

When the door to the apartment closed, the small noise was enough to snap him back to consciousness. He pulled the phone back out and started to wade through the notifications on the small screen. There were 28 texts. And 12 missed calls, seven of which had left voicemails.

He started reading the messages first, still settled on his stomach and kicking his feet up in the air lazily behind him.

**[March 9, 2013 12:42AM] Mom: **Congratulations sweetie! XOXO mom & dad

**[March 9, 2013 1:12AM] Crowley:** Lilith sent a copy of the contract, everything looks good.

**[March 9, 2013 1:27AM] Crowley:** When you get back tomorrow, you have a phone interview with People.

**[March 9, 2013 1:30AM] Crowley:** Don't drink too much, I know you're celebrating but you're irritating when you're hung over.

**[March 9, 2013 1:49AM] Crowley:** Last call. Go back to the hotel and get some sleep.

It went on and on with his agent babying him worse than his own mother ever did when he still lived on the east coast. Around four in the morning the texts started to get desperate, asking if he was ok if he had made it back to the hotel. By seven they were bordering on threatening, Crowley was saying he was going to call the police tell them he had been kidnapped by rabid fans.

The voicemails were worse, he could hear that his friend was sincerely worried about him, but the most recent one was what had him shooting out of the bed and scrambling his clothes on.

"_Jimmy, its Crowley. Do you want to explain these bloody pictures I'm looking at!? I know you aren't at the hotel, call me as soon as you get this or I will be forced to do something drastic."_

Cas quickly scrolled through the meager contacts on his phone until he landed on Crowley's name and he shoved his shoes on his feet as he listened to the connecting ringtone.

"Where are you?" he heard the clipped Scottish accent seethe at him through the tinny speakers of the phone.

"Crowley, I can explain—"

"You bloody well will explain. Do you know what I woke up to? A sodding bike messenger ringing my bell at eight in the morning with a bloody envelope full of pictures of you snogging another man in the middle of traffic!"

"We weren't snogging, Crow, listen—"

"Where are you?" The Scotsman's tone was brittle and Cas felt like he could almost feel the murderous look he must be getting through the phone.

"I'm leaving, right now. I'm going to go get my stuff from the hotel and then I'm coming back to L.A."

"I just need an address; a driver has already picked up your luggage. Now, tell me where you are."

Castiel rattled off the cross-streets near Dean's apartment. He couldn't really remember the address, he had had other things on his mind at the time.

"Be ready in five minutes." Crowley ordered and Castiel nodded even though he knew that the other man couldn't see him. "And Castiel?"

He stopped as he scrambled for the note that Dean had left for him on the bedside table, his heart sinking in his chest as he realized that he may not have time to say goodbye.

"Yea, I'm listening." He replied distractedly, not noticing that Crowley had broken his first big rule and used his real name, it was a habit he was constantly trying to break his client of when he met new people.

"What is his name?"

"Dean," he replied softly, finding a pen that had been left on the kitchen counter and letting it hover over the take out menu.

"I hope he was bloody well worth it." Crowley snapped at him before hanging up.

"He was." Castiel said softly to the empty apartment.

He stared at the paper in front of him, chewing on his lip and feeling like nothing he could possibly write would make up for the fact that he wouldn't be here when the other man got back. There were so many things he wanted to say, wanted to explain to Dean to make him understand but putting it down on paper would take much more than the small space left on the menu for Chamdoen Salang. Castiel felt like nothing he could write would possibly make up for the fact that he was running out on something that might mean something.

This was stupid, he hadn't said more than ten sentences to Dean before they had slept together and now here he was having to write a Dear John letter before he went back to his fabulous life and his fabulous friends and that was what he should want, not the cramped apartment or an omelet made by a man who couldn't even keep his kitchen stocked with coffee.

He scrawled a short note, grimacing at how impersonal and cold it sounded, before grabbing his trench coat from where Dean must have placed it on the back of the couch and shoving his tie in the pocket of his suit jacket. Castiel took once last look around the apartment on his way out, trying to memorize how it looked and smelled so that he could look back fondly at this small private memory that he could hold onto when the rest of his life was such an open book.

He trudged down the stairs slowly, thinking that maybe if he took long enough then Dean would come back and he could say goodbye properly. But the other man still hadn't showed by the time he slipped into the town car that Crowley had sent for him. The windows were tinted really dark and he supposed that it cost a pretty penny for the kind of discretion Crowley seemed to think that the situation warranted.

Cas ran a tired hand over his face, scratching at the stubble that was on his jaw and shifting around in the back seat until he got comfortable. He heard the driver curse under his breath as they rounded the first corner away from Dean's apartment and he looked up in enough time to see the one person he most wanted to talk to give a sheepish salute to the car and continue on down the street, clutching two large white and green cups.

He reached for the door handle, not really caring that the car was still moving but was startled out of his thoughts when he heard all of the locks of the car engage at once. Castiel whipped around in his seat from where he was watching Dean's receding back to shoot the driver a dirty look. The kid was young, really young. He looked like he was playing dress up in his chauffer uniform and had an apologetic expression on his face that Castiel could see in the rearview mirror.

"Sorry, Mr. Collins," The man said in a voice that sounded sincerely repentant. "Mr. Crowley said if I let you out of the car he would put me on a rack and make sure I died slowly."

He sighed and cast one last glance out of the back window of the car, Dean was gone anyway, before letting his hand drop back down to his lap.

"It's okay." He told the boy, pulling his trench coat over him like a blanket and settling miserably back into the seat. _Fucking Crowley._

They headed out of the city and Castiel steeled himself for the six hour drive he knew was ahead of them, longer if the traffic was bad. Crowley must have been pretty desperate to get him home if he had been too rushed to buy a plane ticket. This was bad, this could only be bad.

"If it's not weird or anything," The driver said tapping his hands on the steering wheel to the music that was playing softly on the radio. "I just want to say I'm a big fan, Mr. Collins."

"What's your name kid?" Castiel asked trying to make up for how rude he could only imagine his manager had been to the boy all morning.

"Samandriel," he said effortlessly navigating through the traffic on the busy California freeway. "My friends call me Alfie."

"Well, you can call me James or Jimmy. Mr. Collins makes me feel old."

"Really?" Alfie replied excitedly, glancing back at him and perking up in the front seat. "Wait until my mom hears about this, meeting James Collins my first week in L.A."

He laughed slightly at that and watched the sparse scruffy grass pass by on the side of the road in a blur, broken only by the sad, mangled looking trees that managed to flourish in the smog created by the passing cars.

The salty, smell of the ocean would be covered up by the pollution in the air if he were to open the window, but Castiel imagined that Dean's briny scent was with him in the car. He surreptitiously sniffed his trench coat and was surprised to find that it did actually smell faintly of pumpkins. Of autum and the leaves changing colors and home. He swallowed the lump in his throat and stared out the window with eyes that had glossed over with tears, Cas thought this was all so unfair and the irony was not lost on him when he realized how selfish that sounded. He already had so much and still he wasn't happy.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Maybe he should go back to Hati? Spend some time with people who truly had reasons to be miserable, but still found pleasure in the little things, were thankful for what they did have instead of dwelling on what they had lost. Castiel considered asking Crowley if he had time for a little charity trip before they made the big announcement about the new movie.

He was wondering idly how they were going to adapt the script from Hitchcock's original screenplay and allowed his imagination to wander to who they would cast opposite him, maybe he would get to work with Quinto. This seemed right up his alley, dark and mind-bending sorta like the stuff he was doing on American Horror Story only less gory. Then again he was probably too busy with all of the Star Trek stuff to bother doing a smaller budget film.

Focus Features may be the biggest production company that Castiel had ever worked with, but he knew that a lot of actors regarded the Universal offshoot as someone they would go to when they were already established and looking to widen the range of things they did. For him, it would be how he finally went from doing television and documentary voice over work to something real and big and life-altering. Something that would make him a household name, well James Collins a household name, but it was essentially the same thing. It's not like he could keep his real name from the public forever.

A little over midway through the trip he fell asleep, face pressed up against the glass of the window and his trench coat pulled up over his head to block out the light and make a snug, warm pumpkin scented haven that he could wallow in. A soft tapping on sound near his face is what brought him back and he snorted and sputtered as he woke up, the cold glass making his face feel flat and his glasses pinching his nose from where they had settled crookedly in his sleep.

Alfie opened the door for him when he sat up and he muttered a thank you at the younger boy as he retrieved his bag from the trunk of the town car. When he was sheepishly offered a copy of the second season of Dr. Sexy M.D. to sign, Cas fished out a sharpie from one of the side pockets of his small suitcase and added his trademarked flourishing signature.

'Thanks for a wild ride, Jimmy Collins.'

He smirked at the pun and handed the case back to the driver who thanked him profusely enough that it made Castiel self-conscious. He had only had a minor role on the show that season, playing a patient with a rare heart condition who was briefly a romantic interest of one of the main actresses for six or seven episodes when he had first moved to L.A. after meeting Crowley. It was probably the thing he was most recognized for and while it had been a serious role it was also irksome the amount of fans he had who thought that was all he had ever done.

Cas shook hands with the young driver before making his way up the front steps of his Los Angeles home. It was a modestly sized two story, Tuscan affair with climbing ivy up the sides and a red terracotta tiled roof. He liked it because it was the complete opposite of everything Crowley had tried to get him to buy, it was open and light and airy inside with vaulted ceilings and exposed rafters. He liked the arched entryways and the big tiled patio in the back that abutted against the pool and had it a small yard where he could garden during the times he was home enough to water the plants that attracted the honeybees and hummingbirds that he watched in the mornings.

Crowley thought it was too small with only three bedrooms, but it was more than enough for Castiel who only ever had his parents visit him once or twice a year when they could manage the flight across country depending on how his dad's health was. His agent had wanted him to get a big, glassy modern styled home in the Hollywood hills, but he liked the anonymity of his gated community and the other actors and actresses that lived here were as desirous of their privacy as he was. Even after almost five years of living in Los Angeles he still hadn't managed to replace all of the finishing touches in the house chosen by the decorator Crowley had hired for him with things that were more to his taste.

He trudged in the front door, abandoning his bag and coat in the foyer and making his way towards the back left-hand corner of the house where the kitchen faced the backyard with its atrium windows. He really needed some coffee if he was going to make it through the rest of the day.

Alfie had stopped only once on their way down the California coastline and that had been to go through a McDonald's drive thru because Cas was putting on his best 'I'm so hungry I'm going to die' face and whining in the backseat.

Shuffling towards the kitchen, he lost his shoes and suit jacket somewhere along the way and he had to stop and clutch at the back of the couch in the living room for a moment when he was hit with a sudden flashback of the trail of clothes leading through Dean's apartment and the swell of emotion and loss and guilt made him double over in pain. He finally made it to the large, airy space and leaned against the counter top as his high-end coffee maker percolated just as slowly as the cheap one he had had back in college did.

"You look like shit."

Cas looked up in the direction he heard the familiar voice coming from and spotted his manager, looking impeccable and a lot less pissed off than he had imagined he would, standing in the doorway leading towards the dining room.

"I feel like it," he replied grabbing his favorite mug out of the cabinet and sloshing some of the coffee into the cup, grimacing as the still dripping filter made the burner hiss and spit at him angrily.

He sipped at the hot drink and wondered idly what kind of coffee Dean had gotten for him, looking at Crowley and wondering why he wasn't lying eviscerated on the floor yet.

"Come on," the man said calmly, crooking a finger at him and disappearing back into the room next to the kitchen.

Castiel wandered into the dining room, feeling like a teenager sitting in the principal's office as he took the chair that Crowley pulled out for him and looked at the stack of glossy pictures on the table in front of him with studied disinterest.

There were twelve pictures and as he flipped through the pile he realized that whatever paparazzi had taken them must have been following him since they left Dean's bar. The series started with him being dragged out of the side door of the club, holding hands with the other man as he led them towards the Impala and continued on showing him sitting low in the seat as Dean smiled over at him, sitting closer when they had slowed down for that woman waiting to cross the street, him pressed up close to Dean looking like he was whispering in the other man's ear, Dean kissing him at the red light there were a couple of those, and again in front of his apartment complex.

He blinked away the tears in his eyes and shoved the pictures away angrily. Castiel knew it, had felt the eyes on him when they had left the club, but that hadn't stopped him from acting the way he did. It had just felt so natural to be affectionate to the other man, to show Dean how much he wanted him, that he thought the gorgeous bartender was smart and funny and everything Castiel had always been looking for but never found.

"Well?" Crowley asked looking at his nails with a bored expression on his face.

"Well what?" Castiel snapped taking a drink of his coffee and relishing at the way it burned his throat on the way down. He deserved to be hurting.

"You don't want to ask who knows about this? If I've taken care of it?"

"I just assumed you've taken care of it, Crow. That's your job after all. Making sure my fuck ups don't reach my adoring fans."

"Is that what this was? A fuck up?" Crowley seemed shockingly cavalier about the whole thing and Cas tried not to think about how much it had cost him to keep his little indiscretion on the down low.

He nodded bitterly, feeling like his Big Mac from earlier was going to come right up because his head was screaming that it wasn't true, Dean wasn't a fuck up and last night was something he wouldn't, couldn't just shut away and hide from the light of day like all of the other things about him Crowley had decided that the American public wouldn't care to know about him.

"Good. So you aren't going to do anything stupid, like make some grand highly publicized romantic gesture to some sodding pretty boy in Silicon Valley without consulting with me? I know how you have a flair for the dramatic, James."

Castiel shook his head again and stared down at the table, feeling utterly defeated and drained.

"Excellent, now that this ugly business is behind us. The phone interview with People. Universal did a press release this morning about the movie and cited you as having signed on as Guy Haines so I guess that means they found someone scarier to play Bruno. They will be wanting to talk to you about the remake and where you think Roche is going to take the movie since it's his first big American film."

"Can we talk about this later?" he sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing at his temples. "I'm just really tired and I need a shower. I can't…deal with all of this right now."

"You're going to have to deal with it eventually, Jimmy-boy." Crowley replied impatiently, pulling out his phone and tapping away at the keys in an agitated way.

He looked up at Castiel, noticing how red his eyes were and how ashen his skin looked. His client had dark circles under his eyes and the laugh lines that were part of what made photographers swoon when he did promo shoots and auditions had deepened and changed into a frown that looked utterly horrid. No, he couldn't have his star be seen out and about looking miserable. Crowley waved an impatient hand at Castiel and got up to move to a more comfortable seat in the living room.

"Go on then," he said tersely. "But be quick about it, the girl from People is supposed to call by four."

Castile trudged up the stairs and into his bedroom, pausing long enough in the darkened space to strip out of the rest of his clothes before he made his way over to the ensuite bathroom and the large steam shower he had splurged on when he remodeled the year before.

The hot water poured down on him and he looked dumbly at the rows of fancy shampoos and body washes that Crowley had his housekeeper buy for him, stuff that was meant to make his hair look straight or shiny or manageable depending on what he had to do that day. He wistfully longed for the days when all he had was a bar of Irish Spring and a tepid spray of water from a calcium clogged shower head when he still lived in Boston and his life was simple.

Maybe if he had met Dean there then he could've stayed, and then the next time the other man would've come to his old apartment, the one with the crazy Italian landlady and the exposed brick walls and they could eat bagels and lox from that deli around the corner that he liked and Dean would've come to see him in the plays he did back then, brought him flowers or chocolate or something cheesy like that that boyfriends did for each other and met him backstage to surprise him.

He thought of his old theater as he washed away the traces of his night with Dean, of how he had a private dressing room that was small and smelled vaguely of fish sticks; how it was there that Crowley had found him after he got that amazing review in The Boston Globe for playing Hamlet in an updated version that was directed by that kid who had dropped out of Harvard. Things would have been so different if it had been someone else or Dean coming back to congratulate him instead the Scottish talent agent come to offer him the deal of a lifetime.

Castiel ran a hand over his neck and thought of Dean, of the shy kiss that the other man had given him in the hallway of the club. That had been the moment when he had decided say fuck everything and act exactly like his gut was telling him to. He thought about everything that they had done together, everything they wouldn't get a chance to do together and not for the first time he wondered if all of this, the house, the fame, the money was a fair trade for the fact that he would have to pretend to be something he wasn't for the rest of his life. That he would never get a chance to be truly happy or have someone he could bring home to his parents or someone he could start a family with.

God he was such a girl!

But he stepped out of the bathroom with a new resolve. He may not be in control of his life, but he could do something to make up for being such an asshole to the one fucking person who had managed to make him feel something since moving to this fake fucking place.

He picked up his phone and pulled up the web browser, not bothering with doing more than putting on a fresh pair of boxers since he knew Crowley would burst in on him if he chose to whether he was dressed or not. After finding the number he was looking for he crept over to the door way and peaked down the hall, he could hear his agent's voice floating up from the living room, Crowley sounded angry about something so he better do this quick before the other man stormed up the stairs in one of his famous rages.

Castiel was so scared that Crowley would come in and hear what he was doing that he snapped at the woman taking his order a couple of times, feeling guilty when she was only trying to be helpful.

"No. No." He said trying to make himself calm down, his heart was thudding in his chest and he had his back pressed against his bedroom door, knowing that it wouldn't do much to deter Crowley if he tried to come in the room. "I don't care what kind they are. No, I don't know the recipient's favorite color. It's for a man so I don't know…make it something a guy would like."

"_Sir,"_ the woman said softly to him, Cas felt like she could tell how difficult this was for him. Like she knew that he had no idea what he was doing_. "Maybe you should do an edible arrangement. That's what our male customer's typically send to their friends—"_

"He's not my friend." Castiel blurted, he felt like he was going to have a panic attack if this call lasted much longer. "He's…I don't know what he is. Can you just send the biggest one? It doesn't matter how much it costs. I don't know his address, but I can tell you where he works."

"_The biggest one?" _

"Yea. The biggest bundle or bunch or whatever it's called. I want it to be so big that it fills up the entire delivery van. Two people are going to have to carry it; can you do something like that?"

"_And money is no object?"_ The woman asked incredulously.

"Whatever it costs, I'll pay it."

"_Alright then." _The woman said and Castiel thought that she sounded amused, maybe she was. He probably sounded like some love-struck teenager trying to get the head cheerleader to go to prom with him. _"And what would you like the card to say, sir?"_

He shook his head, closing his eyes and moving swiftly to his discarded pants so that he could get his credit card. "No card. He'll know who it's from."

"_Okay, sir. Will that be Visa or Mastercard?"_

When he went back downstairs, fully dressed in a pair of comfortable jeans and old grey AC/DC shirt that had stretched quite a bit around the collar, Castiel felt pretty proud of himself. He wasn't a jerk, America could keep thinking he was this nice, unassuming bachelor and he would be able to sleep at night knowing that Dean didn't hate him. Everything was going to work out.

Crowley waved at him from the living room couch, pointing at the phone in his hand and mouthing 'People' at him excitedly. He patted the seat next to him on the couch and handed over the phone to Castiel once he had settled onto the overstuffed leather upholstery.

"Hello," he said. This was going to be the interview that changed everything for him.

"_Mr. Collins! Congratulations are in order; we were so excited to hear about your new project over here at People."_ The voice was high, sincere and feminine.

Castiel immediately began to feel at ease, he was much better at phone interviews than he was with face to face stuff. Behind the scenes commentary, the stuff that no one ever saw unless it was on a special release DVD, that's where he really shined. He could be all silly because he knew that the people who would bother to watch deleted scenes and bloopers were the ones who really cared about the characters he played.

"Thank you and please call me Jimmy."

Crowely gave him a thumbs up and went towards the kitchen. He returned ten minutes later with two glasses of scotch on the rocks and carefully set one down in front of Castiel.

"No, Ms. Rosen…alright, Becky. I don't think that Balthazar Roche intends to stick verbatim with Hitchcock's original script, from what I've seen of the rewrites so far it's going to be more of a modern retelling of the story."

Castiel laughed warmly into the phone and Crowley allowed himself to relax for the first time since the younger man had stopped returning his texts the night before.

"Oh, I'm really terrible at tennis so I hope they don't keep that as Guy's profession. I can bowl, but I don't think that's quite as glamorous. No, I have no idea who they have cast as Bruno yet. Ideally? I would love to work with Zachary Quinto, but I think he may be busy with other projects."

"_Have you heard the rumors that they may change the sex of Bruno's character? Rewrite the script to be more romance driven."_

"I had not heard that," Castiel said shooting Crowley a worried look. "It would be interesting to see how they worked that. And the possibilities for a woman who could play a female Bruno would be much different. Any woman who could convincingly strangle another person would be someone who I would be frankly intimidated to meet."

"_Supposedly, Naomi Tapping has been approached with the role."_

"Naomi Tapping?" Castiel said with a nervous laugh and Crowley shifted back into agent mode, pulling out his cell phone and striding out of the room growling threats and questions to some quaking assistant somewhere that would eventually crack and give him all of the answers he was looking for. "Now I really am frightened. But in all seriousness, if that is the route that Balthazar chooses to go with the film then I will gladly follow his brilliant direction to the ends of the earth."

"_Well, thank you Jimmy. It's been a real pleasure talking to you. I think I have everything I need for the article. It should come out in the next couple of weeks."_

"Thank you, Becky. Yes. Have a good evening."

Castiel ended the call and was immediately up off of the couch and searching through the house for his agent. He found Crowley in the garden, yelling into his second phone and kicking at his azalea bush in frustration.

"Well, if Roche gets off of his high sodding horse at all have him call me or he may just lose his leading man. Yea, well I don't care if Mr. Collins has signed every damn contract between here and Tokyo, he will not be working with that jumped up, conniving bitch!"

"Take a breath, Crow." Cas said putting up his hands and approaching the other man slowly.

Crowley gave him a disgusted look, but did as the smaller man said, taking a deep calming breath and letting it out slowly as his shoulders fell in defeat. "Of all of the women they could chose, why does it have to be her?"

Castiel didn't have an answer for that. He didn't know the whole story about what had gone on with Naomi and his agent, but when Crowley found him doing civic theater in Boston the other man had only just gotten his reputation in L.A. back in good enough standing that he could take a chance on a nobody like Castiel. The actress had left him to join one of the bigger talent agencies and less than six months later she was announcing her engagement to one of the most popular actors in the country, Gabriel Novak.

Their highly publicized divorce less than six months later had made her a leper and most of America thought that she was more evil than Natalie Portman when she had cheated with that director from Black Swan. But she was a good actress, well-known for being high maintenance and terrorizing the other people she worked with with her outrageous demands. Castiel figured that this was karma being alarmingly astute after Dean predicting that he would be working with a high strung diva.

"I don't have to do the movie," Castiel offered. He knew it was a lie and so did Crowley, this was it. His project.

"Do the damn movie," Crowley said making his way back through the house and towards the garage.

Castiel followed him, feeling like he should say something else. Offer his friend some kind of wisdom about women being fickle, loving and leaving 'em, but he didn't know any and while he had never asked for explicit information about his manager's love life he was pretty sure that kind of advice didn't apply to this situation.

He watched as Crowley pulled out of his driveway in his red Astin Martin, that car was the man's pride and joy and Castiel had often thought over the years of their weird symbiotic friendship that it was probably the most meaningful relationship his manager was ever going to have with another thing.

Once the other man was gone, he went back into the house and tried to find something to cook for dinner. Twenty minutes later he gave up and ordered pizza, settling down on his living room couch with a beer and Tivo. His guilty pleasure was True Blood and he had fallen way behind over the last couple of months leading up to sweeps week, doing lost of guest appearances on popular television shows and trying to get his name out there more per Crowley's advice.

For what felt like the millionth time that day, he thought about Dean. What he was doing at that moment. Was he working tonight? What was he going to think about Castiel's apology? Did he feel as torn up about all of this as he did?

Castiel knew that sometimes he read too much into things, but the way Dean had held him and asked him to stay, well it had just felt too sincere. Since moving to California, Crowley had indulged him a couple of times, called in a few favors to get a guy sent over to the house, someone discreet and good-looking. Someone he would've been estatic to spend the night with when he was still in college, but this last time he had realized it just wasn't about the sex anymore. The sex was nice, great even. But Cas wanted something more.

He let the house get dark around him. Ignored the star-struck eyes of the delivery girl, ate his pizza alone and drowned his feelings for Dean in beer. When he cried during some stupid, silly moment between Sookie and Bill he figured that it was probably time to go to bed and he trundled off to his room leaving a mess behind him in the living room that he would deal with in the morning. He collapsed into the mattress, wishing it smelled like something other than the expensive eco-friendly laundry detergent his housekeeper used and only noticed his phone going off silently on his bedside table because the light was so blinding in the darkness of his room.

"James," Crowley said sounding pleased with himself. "I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

"Bad." He groaned into the phone.

"Okay, Tapping has been approached for a role in the movie so we're going to have to swallow our pride and kiss her ass just like everyone else."

"What's the good?'

"Roche has picked a location, we'll be going back to the bay area in a month to start shooting."

"Where?" He asked sitting straight up in his bed, the affects of the beers he had drank seeming faraway and insignificant.

"Well, he'll be using the BART for the train scenes so I'm assuming San Francisco."

Castiel almost dropped the phone in surprise, he cleared his throat and ended the call quickly, agreeing that it was good that they would start filming so soon and telling Crowley he was heading to bed.

A mixture of relief and fear washed through him, something out there was giving him a second chance, fate was bringing him back to Dean. The next time he saw him he was going to make sure he got to say goodbye.

* * *

**Author Note:**  
So again I knocked this out fairly quickly since I got such a positive response from the first chapter. I thought I'd give you some back story before we got into the meat of the story. Unbeata'd and all mistakes are my own.

Special bonus points goes to whoever can figure out which movie Cas is going to be doing, no cheating and looking up stuff!


	3. Chapter 3

Dean had passed out halfway through Titanic and about two thirds of the way through his emergency stash of whiskey. It was probably for the best since he had started alternating between the coffee he had bought and the alcohol when he decided that he needed to watch something sappy and wanted to feel the numbness the stiffer drink provided while also staying awake so that he could keep wallowing in his misery and replaying his encounter with Castiel over and over in his head so that he could try to figure out where everything had gotten all turned around.

He was usually the one running out on his dates and as a rule he never ever brought guys back to his apartment. Not because he was embarrassed of his humble abode or anything, he had tried to make it as comfortable as possible and all of the small personal touches he put into the space made it feel like home. It was because of that one time back in Kansas when Sam was still doing undergrad work and Dean had brought a guy named Alistair, or at least he had said that's what his name was, home and proceeded to get the shit beat out of him when he wouldn't do of the kinkier things the other man had wanted to do in the bedroom.

Dean had been so scared that the other man would come back and finish the job after he had been released from the hospital with six stitches on his forehead, a black eye, bruising on his ribs, and instructions from the doctor that he needed to try to stay awake for a couple of more hours in order to make sure there was no serious brain damage. Sam had been the one to find him on the floor of their living room next to the coffee table and the older Winchester had only fuzzy memories of his brother's panicked face and worried voice, but it was enough that he broke their lease early and moved them into a small, dingy apartment across town that had bad insulation and a leak in the ceiling in order to make sure the other man didn't get the idea that he could come back and try to talk his way back into Dean's good graces.

So, he really didn't know what about Cas had made him dumb enough to bring the other man back to his house instead of suggesting that they go to the other man's place or get a hotel or do anything that wouldn't put in him a position to get left or hurt again.

It was around the time that he had admitted that the whole thing with Castiel was doomed from the start that he decided to watch Titantic. Something about seeing two other people up on the screen who would never get a chance to have a real relationship resonated with Dean when he was feeling like this and even though he hated Celine Dion, Leonardo DiCaprio was still hot and everyone else on that ship had it worse than him so he should get his shit together and get up and leave the house. It was stupid that he was so upset about a one night stand that with someone who he didn't know anything about.

Beyond the fact that Castiel was a gorgeous, funny totally out of his league and unattainable movie producer with the most intense blue eyes he had ever seen and Dean couldn't stop thinking about how when the other man had touched him it had felt like his skin was on fire in the most amazing way possible and when they had kissed it had been enough to make him forget about any other man he had ever been with.

The alcohol overwhelmed Dean right around the time that Jack and Rose were slumming it with the immigrants in the lower decks which was a real shame because it was his favorite part. When he woke up later it was to the sounds of band playing as they went down with the ship, but that wasn't what jerked him out of his alcohol induced slumber. It was his cell phone going vibrating against his temple from where it was pressed between his face and the drool covered couch cushion he had collapsed upon.

He sat up and rubbed at his face where it was stinging from being pressed against the hard plastic of his phone for so long. Dean glanced at the illuminated screen and bit back a groan when he saw that it was Meg.

"Hello," he sighed into the phone as he ran a hand over his face, the numbness of the alcohol making his brain feel detached from the rest of his body.

"_Dean!" _His manager barked at him through the phone sounding irritated and out of breath. _"First, you're a total whore. Ditching work for the first pretty boy with a chisled jaw to bat his eyelashes at you. For shame, Winchester."_

"Who told you?"

"_Jess did, she got worried when you wouldn't return her texts this morning and Jo managed to convince her you had run off with some very good looking serial killer. Girl's got a twisted sense of humor, that one." _ Meg replied as Dean heard something clatter in the background and the girl swore. "_Ow! Fucking shit's heavy."_

"What are you doing?" Dean asked standing up and moving to the kitchen for a bottle of water, something to cut the whiskey in his system and make him feel less like a zombie.

"_That's the second thing I called about," _Meg said before breaking into a sing-song voice. _"You got something pretty."_

"Come again?"

"_Well, if you bothered answering any of the messages I sent you or I don't know telling me you weren't going to bother sticking around after work for waffles then you would already have a picture of what got delivered to the bar for you this afternoon. But since I'm punishing you, you're just going to have to wait and see. And also meet me downstairs in your lobby in about ten minutes to help me carry this monster up to your apartment."_

"Fine," Dean grunted, his curiosity getting the better of him.

He hung up the phone and looked at the digital numbers on the clock on his oven as he nursed his water. Dean felt pretty horrible, maybe he shouldn't have acted liked such a girl and inhaled all of that whiskey, that bottle was for things like getting fired or someone dying or Baby breaking down on the side of the road. Not for things like falling for someone he didn't know the first thing about only to get left high and dry in the morning. Apparently he couldn't handle getting jilted very well.

Dean splashed some water on his face at the kitchen sink in an effort to help himself not look so much like death warmed over before he shoved his boots back on and headed down towards the lobby, clomping down the stairs heavily and grumbling to himself about how his landlord was too cheap to get the elevator fixed yet.

He arrived at the foot of the stairs in enough time for him to see Meg's sporty red Mustang pull into her favorite parking spot under the palm trees that lined the edge of the parking lot of Dean's apartment complex. Dean ran a hand through his hair when he saw his reflection cast in the glass doorway of the lobby and sighed when it just made his hair look worse than before when it had just been flat on one side of his head instead of unevenly fluffy like it was now. He wandered out the door and over to his friend's car, the loud rock music muffled from where he could hear it through her closed windows before the sound abruptly cut out and the small woman climbed out of the car.

"I had to put it in the trunk," Meg stated smiling widely at Dean as she pushed the button on her key ring that made the rear hatch click open. "I couldn't get the seats to move forward far enough get it in the back."

Dean's brow furrowed as he followed his friend as she lifted the lid of her trunk to reveal a springy, jumbled mass of blue, purple, and dark red flowers mixed arranged in a large rectangular vase with dark green foliage peppered in liberally. It was beautiful without being overly feminine or making him feel like they were sent out of pity. Because it was obvious who they were from, there was only one person who dean could think of that would have any reason to send him something so wonderful.

"The man who delivered it said it was going to be bigger, but they couldn't find a container to make it as massive as the guy had asked for it to be. Still, it's heavy as hell so you're carrying that up all of those stairs mister and then you're making me dinner for being nice enough to bring it over for you instead of stealing it for myself like Jo wanted to do."

"Fucking devil's advocate." Dean muttered in a small voice because he was trying to not get his hopes up. "Is there a card?"

Maybe the whole thing had just been a misunderstanding, maybe Cas just had an early morning meeting or something that he had to get to and yea, it was a Saturday, but movie people did that right? Meetings over brunch and stuff like that. Maybe the other man had always meant to stay in touch with Dean and he had just gotten worked up over nothing.

"No card," Meg said pulling out her pack of cigarettes and tapping them against the palm of her hand absently.

"Are you sure?" he asked because surely Cas sent him a card, even if it just had a phone number on it, it would still be more than the note that had been left for him that morning.

"Nope. Trust me, I asked. I was as curious about your mystery admirer as everyone else at the bar. But grab that so that we can get upstairs and you can tell me all about your blue-eyed boy crush."

"How did you know what co—"

"Jo," Meg interrupted blandly. "Seriously, that girl is the font from which all knowledge springs."

Dean hefted the bouquet and followed the smaller woman as she began the ascent to his apartment, by the second floor he was starting to get a little winded and by the time they reached his front door he was panting and sweating and he was pretty sure he smelled like a brewery now that the alcohol was beginning to work its way out of his system.

"God, Dean." Meg said opening the door for him and crinkling her nose as he shoved past her to quickly set the heavy flower arrangement down. "You're more out of shape than I thought. Maybe you should join a gym. Lots of guys hook up at gyms."

Dean flexed his fingers, looked at the red marks that the vase had left on his arms and gave his friend a withering look. "I don't want to hook up with some meat head from a gym, Meg."

"Oh, that's right. How could I forget about your nerd kink?!" Meg said rolling her eyes sarcastically and plopping down ungracefully onto Dean's couch. "Jess said this one was finally seemed like he might be good enough for you, what's his name?"

"Castiel," Dean muttered moving to sit next to his friend and trying not to look at the flowers because it just made him feel cheap and hopeful all at the same time.

All of his emotions about the other man were so conflicted because he just wished that he had had a little bit more time with Cas, but now he didn't know because if he was anything like Dean had been when he had been ditching hookups without a single thought to who might get hurt by him then maybe the other man wasn't worth trying to find. But the flowers, those proved that Castiel was thinking about him, in a good way probably and that made it hard for Dean to try to just forget what had happened the night before.

"Weird name," the woman replied, reaching out a foot to nudge at the mostly empty whiskey bottle that was still sitting on Dean's coffee table with the pointed toe of one of her boots. "I'm guessing the night didn't end like you hoped it would?"

"It ended just fine," he said leaning his head over onto Meg's shoulder having to slouch down a bit to get low enough for the position to be comfortable.

"Do tell." Meg implored roguishly.

Dean shook his head and sighed heavily. "Let's just say I asked him to stay."

"Whoa."

"Yeah."

"No, like seriously. Whoa." Meg said patting Dean comfortingly on his hand. "You brought him back here, which you never ever do, and then you asked him to stay the night. Guy must have been a real looker."

"God, Meg. He was soooo good looking. I don't think I've ever seen someone that handsome in real life."

"Bullshit, Benjamin Bratt came into the bar the other day and that guy is a total DILF with a 'Y'." Meg joked, nudging Dean in the side softly with her elbow.

"With a 'Y'?" Dean asked trying not to get distracted but unable to stop himself from asking.

"Dad You'd Like to Fuck, too much testosterone for me, thank you. But I know you like your guys all sharp angles and secret strong. So I'm guessing your boy Friday was probably all cheekbones and jawline and sticky outty hair, right?"

The man buried his face in his hands and groaned at how well his friend knew him. "His eyes. They were so blue and I thought I was going to fall into them and drown and it would've been the best thing to ever happen to me."

"J2 told me that he had glasses and a suit too, so this guy sounds like he was pretty much your dream man. What went wrong?"

"I think I came on too strong," Dean admitted sitting up and wrapping his arms around himself. "I told him I couldn't get enough of him and asked if he had a boyfriend. Maybe he wasn't looking for something serious."

"And you are?" Meg asked picking up the whiskey bottle and moving to put it back in the kitchen. The smaller woman grabbed a soda out of the fridge and ambled back to the couch, stopping long enough to lean on the back of the couch and pull her boots off with a loud sigh.

"I dunno," he said with a shrug. "Maybe if I found the right person. I'm almost thirty, Meg. How much longer can I keep picking up guys at clubs before I'm that weird old manther hitting on pretty, young models and going home alone every night?"

"Holy shit, I never thought I would live to see the day when Dean Winchester was ready to settle down."

"Well, don't going writing your will just yet, lady friend. I went to get coffee for me and Cas this morning and when I got back he was gone."

"Gone. Like disappeared without a trace gone or he died in your apartment and this conversation is taking a really weird turn gone."

"The first one, buttface." Dean snapped. "He had just left, didn't even leave a number or anything. Just a note thanking me for a great night, like it was just another one night stand. To him it probably was."

"No," Meg said jumping back up and heading for the man's bedroom where she knew he kept his laptop. "I'm not going to let you be all mopey over this. Ugh! Dean, have you been drunk all morning?"

The last part she called from inside of his bedroom and Dean couldn't help but think that was really dumb question for her to ask because she had just taken away his alcohol, like a mom taking away their kid's Halloween candy when it became obvious that they couldn't control themselves around it.

"Pretty much." He called to her.

"Well, at least change your sheets or something before you go to sleep because that is gross." Meg grumbled as she returned to the couch and set Dean's computer down on the coffee table, quickly tapping the power button and cracking her knuckles while she waited for the screen to light up. "Men and your body fluids. Ick."

"Girls have body fluids too," Dean grumbled as he felt his face heat up. He hadn't really been too concerned about what state his bed might be in after his night with Castiel.

"How would you know, Liberace?"

"Sam's told me."

"Now that's just disturbing. You and your brother really do share way too much." Meg pulled up Dean's web browser and quickly navigated to Google. "Now if you had to guess, how do you think Castiel is spelled?"

"Um, C-A-S-T-E-A-E-L? Maybe? Why are you asking?"

"I'm going to search for him on the internet and we're going to find his Facebook or some way to get in touch with him and you're going to find out what happened."

"That's creepy, Meg. Don't do that. It's like stalking." Dean said quickly sitting up and reaching for the computer so that he could stash it somewhere the smaller woman couldn't get to it. On top of his fridge should be high enough to do the trick.

"It's only stalking if you go through all of his pictures and start photo shopping your face onto his old boyfriend's body. What we're doing is research. Harmless research like for school." Meg responded using her body to shield the computer from the larger man. "Did you get a last name, Casanova or were you too busy thinking with you lower brain to bother with incidentals?"

"Krushnic." Dean spat out at her, giving up because really he was just imagining what it would be like to see Castiel again and he didn't know why he hadn't thought of doing this sooner.

"Oooh, foreign. That will help. How many Castiel Krushnic's can there be in the world?"

"Better exclude Russia from your search or we'll be at this all night," Dean muttered anxiously, getting up from his spot on the couch and starting towards the kitchen to try to find something to cook for dinner because he was warring between snapping the computer shut and pushing Meg out of the way so he could do the search himself.

He listened to tapping keys of the other woman and tried not to keep glancing over at the small glowing screen as she worked. Dean pulled open his fridge and was met with an odd assortment of condiments, enough ingredients to make a couple of omelets, and a large variety of beverages both alcoholic and not. The man let out a frustrated groan and shut the door with probably a little too much force so that he could rake his eyes over the different menus for takeout that were stuck to his fridge with the Lego Star Wars magnets that Sam had shipped to him as part of the older Winchester's birthday present back in January.

Both brothers had been too busy at the time to make the short trip to see each other, with Sam knowing what his graduate school course work was going to be like now that he had one semester under his belt and Dean taking on more hours at the bar so that he could afford the plane ticket he was planning on buying Bobby so the older man could fly out for Sam's birthday in May. Dean wanted to book him a seat in first class, set their former guardian up in a real nice hotel so that he knew that the brother's were doing well even though they were living so far from home and out of Bobby's watchful gaze.

He snatched down the one for a nearby pizza place; it felt like a pizza kind of night and went to sit back down next to Meg. Dean pulled his phone out of the pocket of his pajama pants and dialed in the number, quickly placing an order for a large meat lover's with extra cheese and sauce that the man assured him would arrive in less than thirty minutes or it was free.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" Meg asked turning to look at her friend when he got off the phone.

"Give me the bad first, that way the good will seem really good." Dean said sitting facing his friend and crossing his legs underneath him.

"Okay, I lied. It's all kinda bad, but not horrible!" The smaller woman added when she saw how the man's face went from excited to crushed in almost no time at all. "Your mystery man isn't married or anything like that."

"That's not bad."

"No, the bad news is I can't find hardly anything about him online. It's like Castiel Krushnic doesn't exist. All I can find is a super retro Myspace page, which if this is him then the guy has terrible taste in music. Just fucking awful."

Meg turned the computer towards Dean so he could look at the profile picture and it was him. Castiel smiling in what was obviously a photo that he had taken of himself, looking up at the camera with a sheepish smile on his face and wire-rimmed glasses pushed up into his hair on top of his head. The girl was right, the other man's music player was full of weird indie pop songs that put the college alt-rock of the 90s to shame with how trendy it must have been five years ago.

The last status update was from around the same time as the music and simply stated, "Moving to California!" with a little excited emoticon face next to it. It had Castiel's hometown listed as Boston, Massachusetts and suddenly the whole pumpkin obsession made sense to Dean. Cas probably lived for fall in his hometown, when the leaves were changing colors and the weather was getting chilly and people decorated their houses with squash and maize and other pilgrim-type things to celebrate their heritage as one of the first colonies.

"What else did you find?" Dean asked bookmarking the page so that he could look at it later and even though he could admit that the sentiment bordered on stalker he needed to know as much about Castiel as possible so that if nothing else he could form a more complete picture of the other man in his head. Darken the outline of his memories from the night before which were already becoming blurry and abstracted due to the alcohol he had consumed throughout the morning.

"Some old article from the Boston Globe about something he might have done with a production of _Hamlet_. There's no picture so I don't know for sure that it's about him, but the article is dated for around the same time as his last couple of Myspace posts." Meg said pulling up a stub of a review for a play that just hit on the keywords of Castiel's name.

"He said he was a movie producer so maybe he moved here after that and started working in movies." Dean supplied not bothering to look at the article because he already knew what it would say, that Castiel was brilliant and amazing and other people could see it too.

"Well, besides that. I can't find anything else. It's like he disappeared off of the map until you met him last night." Meg gasped dramatically and waved her hands at Dean. "Maybe he's a ghost. Dean, maybe you had sex with a ghost!"

"Ghost sex," Dean said drily, hearing the buzzer go off for his apartment and he moved to grab his wallet so that he could make sure to give the delivery kid a hefty tip for climbing all of those stairs. He always felt so bad for ordering out since the elevator was broken, but at least he didn't live on one of the higher floors. "Ghosts don't exist, Meg. You've been watching too many movies."

"That shit is real, Dean!" Meg exclaimed pointing a finger at him as he waited near the door for the pizza. "There's this web series called _Ghostfacers _and they literally face the ghosts. You should tell them about your sexy ghost encounter and let them interview you."

"If I tell anyone about what happened with me and Cas last night it's going to be _Penthouse Letters,_" Dean told the woman, ignoring the amazed look that the delivery boy gave him when he made the comment as he took the food he had ordered out of his hands. The older man gave the teenage boy a wink and shut the door soundly in his face after paying him.

"You just enjoy scarring delivery boys for life don't you?" Meg asked giggling as Dean grabbed plates and drinks for them before he joined her back on the couch.

"I don't answer my door topless," Dean retorted, sprinkling a hefty portion of parmesan cheese onto his pizza slices.

"That was one time," the woman beside him complained, getting up to peruse Dean's DVD collection for something to watch, snatching down the latest season of _Dr. Sexy M.D._ and jumping around a bit as she held it up for her friend's approval. "I know what will make you forget about ghost boy."

Dean hadn't watched the seventh season yet, but he had made a point to go out and buy it as soon as it had hit the shelves. The primetime medical drama was pretty much the only series he followed religiously and he had been watching it since it had first come out when he and Sam were still living with Bobby.

"He's not a ghost, Meg." Dean stated though it almost felt like Castiel was something insubstantial and ethereal.

Their encounter seemed more and more unreal as he continued to think about it, but he had proof that the other man existed. Maybe he was just living off of the grid like Dean's high school buddy Ash, but if he was trying to avoid someone then he was doing a pretty poor job of it by going out to bars and working in film. He couldn't help glancing back at the bouquet of flowers that were still sitting on his kitchen counter and he smiled when he thought of the how perfect they were, not too garish or out there. Just like Cas, the blue flowers even kinda reminded him of the other man's eyes.

"Oh this is serious," Meg said pulling an exaggerated frowny face and scooping up the other six seasons of the television show, dumping them in a heap on the floor in front of Dean's television and DVD player. "You're totally hung up on this guy. That means a marathon!"

"Meg, that's like a week's worth of watching TV and that's if we don't eat or sleep or shower."

"So we'll do it in small chunks, starting with season seven because I know I missed some episodes around the time that Dr. Sexy broke up with that one foxy redheaded nurse. I liked her, what a dumb way to die by the way—"

"NO!" Dean yelled, throwing a parmesan packet at his friend to shut her up. "Spoilers! We can watch that season first, now that I know that she dies. Thanks troll."

"Yay!" Meg said happily sliding in the first DVD and settling back down on the couch with the remote. "Plus if we work our way backwards then all of our favorite side characters come back to life and Dr. Sexy gets younger and younger."

"So we're going to start with the last episode of season seven?" Dean asked slightly confused by his friend's logic.

"No, we'll watch season seven, then six, and go back until Dr. Sexy is back together with that other hot redhead he was dating in the beginning of the series, back when they were still on HBO and you got to see boobs every now and then."

"You're like a teenage boy, Meg."

"Well one of us has to be," the smaller woman said with a shrug as the opening strains of the show's theme song drifted out over Dean's television speakers. "The real crime was when they got canceled and picked back up by fucking NBC."

"Yea," Dean agreed. "This ain't _The Office,_ this is Dr. freaking Sexy."

"Thank you! Ain't nobody got time for that."

"You're so dumb."

"Then makes you dumber," Meg said sticking her tongue out at other man before they both turned back to the TV when they heard the tell-tale sound of a staged slap.

The pair made it completely through the seventh season and even though Dean liked to watch the commentary, he couldn't talk Meg into staying long enough to sit through it with him so they agreed to get together again on Monday to watch the sixth season together, only this time Meg had to cook because Dean had no intention of going grocery shopping anytime soon. He walked with Meg down to her car and gave the smaller woman a hug.

"You're going to be okay, right?" The woman asked giving Dean a concerned look. "I mean it's not like the guy was your soul mate or anything right?"

"I don't know," Dean replied swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. "I know it was just one night, but it felt like maybe it could be more. I just wish I had a way to see him again."

"Well, maybe things will work out. Y'know karma and all of that bullshit. Good things happen to good people."

"So you're saying I'm never going to see him again, thanks."

"No, I'm saying that you deserve to have something good happen to you. So don't give up the ghost, Dean. Maybe he'll show up again."

"I swear to god, Meg, if you keep calling Cas a ghost, it's going to drive me crazy."

The smaller woman quirked an eyebrow at him and got into her car. After she started the ignition she cracked her window enough to sing the first couple of lines of the Ghostbusters theme song to him before cackling madly and peeling out of the parking lot.

When Dean made it back to his apartment, he snatched up his laptop on his way to his bedroom. He took his friend's advice and changed the sheets on his bed, but chose to keep the mismatched pillowcases on because they still smelled faintly like Castiel and he really wasn't ready to give that up yet. He propped his laptop up on the bed beside him and pulled back up the other man's old myspace page.

"Night, Cas." Dean murmmered softly, running a finger over the old picture of Castiel.

It felt so silly and pathetic to be talking to his computer, but it made him feel better. Like maybe if he talked to Cas when he wasn't there then the other man would still be able to hear him somehow, like angels could when you said a prayer, and he would know that Dean was still thinking about him. That their short time together meant something more to him than just a random, meaningless hookup and even though it was creepy as hell Dean felt like he would sell his soul if it meant he could just see the other man one more time and tell him about the feelings that he couldn't quite name.

Dean's last thought before he drifted off was of the flowers the other man had sent him and how it meant that the other man was thinking of him too. That had to be good for something, right?


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks felt like they had never taken longer and even though Castiel was busy with round table read-throughs of the new script and making strategic appearances out in public, doing domestic little things like grocery shopping or going out to brunch with his friend Patrick to meet his new girlfriend, catching up with other more well-known celebrities in areas where the paparazzi who were curious to get an eyeful of the small-time actor who had managed to land the leading role in Balthazar Roche's new film, with the infamous Naomi Tapping as his love interest, could see him and fuel the rumor mill of who exactly James Collins had to be sleeping with to get such a big project dropped in his lap.

"So, I'm sorry I couldn't make it out for Dave's funeral," Castiel apologized to his friend who was sipping on the mimosa he was drinking.

The other man smiled sadly at the girl next to him who reached out a hand to pat him on the arm before excusing herself to go to the bathroom. The friends watched the girl leave and turned back to look at each other, resolutely ignoring the photographers who were lurking across the patio they were sitting on, kept from entering the restaurant by a purposefully placed hedgerow that was high enough to deter them, but didn't give the actors the privacy that the somber subject they were discussing warranted.

"It's fine, Casti—Jimmy." The younger man replied, catching himself before he used anything other than Castiel's stage name in public. "You were in Boston for the holidays and none of us expected it to happen. It's better that he was at home though, in Salt Lake because his parents and family were there. Juno and I flew out for it; she wanted to meet my parents and be there with me for the visitation."

"She seems really great, Pat." Castiel said earnestly, because even though he knew that the couple wasn't going to be showing off some of her more recent movies to the other man's parents anytime soon probably, the British girl seemed genuinely sweet and he couldn't help but wonder how much of her outlandish personality was just a put on for the people who were constantly watching her as well.

"Yea, she is. Listen man, I'm happy you like her because I'm asking her to move in with me." Patrick replied leaning across the table to whisper to the older man, his shaggy brown hair falling forward into his face as he spoke. "Her lease is up on her flat in a month and instead of her going back to England for a bit, I'm going to ask her to stay."

"That's fantastic!" Castiel exclaimed, moving around the table to wrap the other man in a brotherly hug that had the reporters throwing questions at them across the patio.

"Mr. Fugit! Mr. Collins! What are you celebrating?!"

"Are you collaborating on a project with Ms. Temple!?"

"America wants to know what your favorite soda is, James!"

Patrick shook his head disgustedly at the reporters as Cas went to sit back down and Juno returned, fluffing up her blonde hair and giving the two men a confused look.

"What did you boys get up to while I was gone? You've awoken the peanut gallery," the girl stated eyeing the paparazzi before blowing a kiss at them and settling back happily into the arm that Patrick had draped across the back of her chair.

"We were talking about um…Jimmy what were we talking about again?" Patrick scrambled, pleading with his eyes at the older man to keep quiet about wanting to ask the girl to move in with him.

"Um…San Francisco," Castiel supplied because it was the only thing he could think of, in fact it had been practically the only thing on his mind since finding out where Roche had chosen to shoot the movie. That and Dean and whether or not the other man would want anything to do with him if Cas showed up at his apartment or work. "My agent has rented me a house on the beach to live in while shooting the movie for the next couple of months. I'm going up next week to get settled in. You two should visit, one weekend, it would be nice to have some company in that big empty place. I don't know why Crow thinks I need a four bedroom house for just me, the place is massive."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find someone to fill it," Juno said smirking knowingly at the older man. "I hear people in that city are very friendly."

Cas shot Patrick a frightened look, he had told the younger man about Dean about a week before when he had been feeling overwhelmed with guilt and loneliness. The two of them had gone out to dinner and ended up getting slightly drunk, enough so that Castiel broke down and called Alfie with the car to come and get them, but before the young driver had gotten there he had told his only friend about how he was pretty sure he had messed up the one thing that had made him as happy as acting did since moving to Los Angeles.

The younger man put his hands up in defense, "I didn't tell her, man. I promise."

"Oh, scandal." The woman crowed, taking a dainty bite of the crepes she was eating and crinkling her nose a bit at the look on Castiel's face. "Relax, James. Patrick didn't spill your little secret, sometimes a woman just knows. Anyway, I am quite likely to be the last person who will judge you based on who you sleep with. I bet he's absolutely delicious, whoever he is."

"Can you keep your voice down?" Cas hissed desperately, there was no way the paparazzi could hear him, but he didn't want to think about Crowley finding out that he was out bragging about sleeping with another man when he was supposed to be the country's next George Clooney, swoon-worthy serial bachelor extraordinaire.

"Of course darling, I'm not touched, y'know." Juno quipped waving her fork around abstractedly. "You Americans with all of your hang-ups about sexuality. Do your parents know about your closet drama?"

"Yes," he replied lowly, looking around at the other diners like they were about to shove a microphone in his face. Castiel reached up to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose before remembering that he was wearing the contacts that Crowley forced on him anytime he was going where paparazzi could see him and dropping his hand back into his lap with a resigned sigh.

"Then why do you have to hide, if people don't want to see something you're in just because you happen to like a cock up your arse then they will be missing out on a lot of fantastic films. _The Avengers_, that wouldn't have been nearly as popular if all of you actors could just fuck who you wanted."

"Are you always this crass?" Castiel asked, his calm demeanor betrayed by how his hand shook with pent up frustration as he reached for his own champagne flute.

"Let's just say its part of my charm," the woman said picking up her glass quickly and clinking it against Cas's with a wink. "Anyway, I for one would love to visit you in San Francisco. What do you say, love? One last hurrah before I go back to dreary old England?"

"Anything you want, babe." Patrick laughed, poking at Juno's nose with the tip of his finger and shrugging at the sour look that was still on his friend's face.

* * *

"DEAN, GET THE FUCK UP!" Jo shouted, pulling on the blanket that he had wrapped himself up in like a cocoon and kicking at his mattress, her pony tail bouncing as she moved. "We're going to be late for the movie and you promised you would do this with me!"

It had been three weeks since his encounter with Castiel and after searching for the other man, pouring over San Francisco phonebooks, doing some random calls to a couple of the area production companies to see if they had an amazing handsome producer on their payroll, and obsessively going through the guest list for the VIP section at the bar for that night, he hadn't been able to find anything. Meg had said he was a ghost and maybe she was right, maybe Castiel wasn't even his real name. For all Dean knew the old Myspace page was something the other man had used for hookups five years ago, a fake persona that fed into the lies he told guys he slept with, only to abandon it when Facebook and dating websites became more commonplace.

So he had started to give up, lock away the memories of that night so that they would remain untarnished and perfect as he became more and more bitter about the whole thing and moved on. He had agreed to doubling on a blind date with Jo a couple of days before when Jess had backed out saying that she had some campaign to shoot for Chrysler that couldn't be rescheduled. Apparently the other guy wasn't too particular about the sex of his own date and that's how Dean had gotten tricked into the whole thing when the two blonde girls had cornered him in the stockroom at the bar and finagled him into going.

They were going to go see some documentary about bees and the environment that sounded like something that Sam would make him watch in order to try to talk him once again into switching to a hybrid car instead of his carbon, spewing Impala. Dean didn't really think it was a date kind of movie, but they were going early and with any luck he would have time to go over to Meg's later so they could start watching Season 2 of _Dr. Sexy_.

"Just stop," He groaned into his pillow, slapping the laptop next to his head shut and shoving it away. "I'm getting up, leave me alone."

Dean had gotten drunk after work the night before and decided that it would be a really good idea to read through everything on Cas's old Myspace page and write comments that the other man would never see on the journal entries that Castiel had written about going to Red Sox games and some poem that Dean only vaguely knew by Walt Whitman.

He trudged out of bed and into the shower, Jo screeching at him the whole time about making an effort and not being a jerk and blah blah blah what the fuck ever. Dean had a headache and he didn't care. Everything just seemed pointless and washed out in comparison to his time spent with Castiel, but he hoped eventually, things would go back to normal and his life would snap back into color like Dorothy stepping out into Oz.

They were going to The Castro Theatre which was near where Jo and Jess lived over in Mission District, but for Dean it was a bit of a drive from where his own small apartment in Marina was, bordered by Presidio Park and the affluent areas of San Francisco with private beaches and houses that were more for show than actually living. The Neighbourhood was situated between their homes, in that weird area where Nob Hill almost bled into Pacific Heights but managed to stay on the more down to earth side of the 101.

Dean debated for a moment about shaving before deciding that beards were a vacation thing and he needed to get rid of his so that bears would stop hitting on him every time he left his apartment. When he walked back into his room he saw that Jo had already picked out some clothes for him which was even freaking better because he could care less how this guy thought he looked, it's not like this date was going to lead anywhere anyway. He tossed on the jeans and grey button down, not even bothering to glance in the mirror as he ran a hand through his hair and decided he was ready.

He refused to ride in Jo's car to the theater because he wanted to be able to make an escape if he felt like he needed one, so they took Dean's Impala and he blasted anything but AC/DC because ever since Cas he just couldn't stomach it anymore. When they pulled up to the theater he spotted the two men waiting outside and immediately knew that Jess had probably never been the one going on this date in the first place.

To be fair, Jo had tried this time, at least with his own date to set Dean up with someone who was closer to his type, not all muscle bound and thick-necked like her own date was hulking over his smaller friend standing next to him. The guy was scruffy and pale and wiry, just liked Dean like his guys, so he tried to muster up some interest as the other man unabashedly checked him out.

"Aaron," the smaller man said sticking his hand out nervously to Dean as Jo threw herself into the arms of the man who Dean was pretty sure was probably distantly related to Andre the Giant.

"Dean," he replied, forcing a smile onto his face and gesturing for the other man to go ahead of him into the theater.

Dean played the part of a gentleman, buying the other man's ticket and concessions and holding doors open so that Jo wouldn't give him hell for not trying later. Once they were settled inside the darkened theater he realized what the girl's plan had been all along as she climbed into her date's lap and proceeded to start making out with him as the previews and opening credits rolled.

Aaron cleared his throat uncomfortably and turned away from the couple, crossing his legs towards Dean and leaning into the armrest separating them. Dean tried to shift away slightly as the smell of the other man's cologne overwhelmed him, making him feel like his throat was closing up and his eyes itch.

"I'm sorry," the other man murmured, reaching out a hand and placing it on Dean's leg as the narrator's deep, soothing voice began echoing over the sound system in the nearly empty auditorium theater. "Judah isn't exactly what you would call subtle."

Dean glanced over at the other man and in the darkness he could almost pretend it was Cas, if he squinted, and the narrator's voice which was reciting different bee related sayings as they flashed across the screen reminded him of the throaty growl of his one-time lover. If Aaron didn't talk, well then Dean supposed that he could pretend for a while that he was who he wanted to be with, that the hand on his leg was the same one that had cupped his face and stroked him to the best orgasm of his life all of those weeks ago.

_'What is not good for the swarm, is not good for the bee. Marcus Aurelius"_

"It's fine," Dean replied softly, putting his own hand over the other man's and imagining that the pale fingers were longer, the nails cropped close and blunt instead of sculpted like Aaron wore his. He ran a thumb over the back of the warm knuckles and resolutely stared back at the screen so that he wouldn't be tempted to look over and have his fantasy shattered.

The documentary was actually really interesting, it talked about how important bees were to the ecosystem and how almost a hundred years ago a scientist predicted that they would start disappearing as cities expanded and technology advanced. When the narrator talked about colony collapse syndrome, the passion in his voice made the breath catch in Dean's chest, he could almost picture Castiel saying those words and how his brow would crease in frustration over how important he felt the topic was, like it had when he had called Dean gorgeous and told him he would stay.

Dean didn't think that Jo came up for air once the entire movie and maybe that was why he let Aaron kiss him as the narrator's voice recited a poem about the confusion of bees disappearing from their homes as the end credits rolled across the screen. Maybe he felt like he owed it to the other man for having to sit through his friend completely ignoring him the entire afternoon just for Dean's sake.

He focused on the words as the other man's beard scratched against his face, on how it wasn't even hard at this point to hear the narrator's voice as Cas's voice, murmuring into his ear as he slept with his head on the other man's chest, promises of the two of them finding each other again and giving it a go because he had felt it too, that stirring fluttering feeling that was almost love when they had kissed.

_'Confusion of the hive, _

_they call it, and the hive dies, each bee goes down, _

_each light goes out, one by one, blinking out all over town, _

_seen from a great height as the night ages, darkens, _

_as you're parked in your car with your own true love, _

_until it's just you two and the stars, until it's just you.'_

Aaron's nose was too big and his kisses were too wet, too sloppy to be anything like it had been when Dean and Castiel had kissed so he pulled away when the house lights came up and smiled at the other man in a way that would make him feel like less of a jerk when he didn't call Aaron back for another date. He decided to keep the number in his phone, just in case he did ever actually move on from wanting something he couldn't have, but for now an easy relationship just didn't seem appealing.

Dean left Jo to fend for herself with Judah and Aaron, deciding that he needed to do something mindless that would make him zone out and forget about all of the memories of Castiel that the movie and familiar voice of the narrator dredged up. Memories he was working hard at trying to bury because they just made him do stupid things like drink away his grocery money like he had the night before. He headed towards Meg's apartment in Union Square, situated close enough to Chinatown that he didn't have to question what the two of them would probably be eating for dinner.

"Honey I'm home," Dean called as he let himself into Meg's place using the spare key she had given him after the third time she drunkenly locked herself out, how he didn't know.

"Bitch, please." The smaller woman said padding from the kitchen with a large mixing spoon in her hand to give Dean a kiss on the cheek. "You wish."

"Not if you're cooking, I don't." Dean said sniffing the air for the smell of something burning, Meg was a terrible chef and everyone at bar joked about how she could ruin a pot of boiling water if she put her mind to it.

"Relax, Winchester. I'm making cookies, but you're here now so I'm pretty sure we can manage to not ruin them if we work together. "

"I guess your date went about as well as mine did," Dean commented, referring to the outting that his manager had the night before with one of their regulars, an intimidating brunette girl named Ruby who always looked slightly strung out to Dean.

"Dude, I walked into the bathroom of the restaurant, okay?" Meg began leading the man to her breakfast nook where he sat on one of the high school she kept at the counter. "And the chick was snorting coke off of the edge of the sink."

"No way!" Dean exclaimed watching closely as his friend slid the cookies into the oven, double checking the temperature before she came to lean across the counter from him. "Mine was just a bad kisser. You sure know how to pick 'em Masters."

"It gets better. So she's doing drugs in the middle of pretty much the nicest restaurant in the financial district, which she picked out I might add, and when she gets done she just offers me a line. Man, I bolted so fast that the maitre'd had to flag me down to give me my purse. But back to yours! Bad kisser? Is it safe to say we're over comrade Krushnic?"

The other man shrugged and looked down at his hands, "We went to see this documentary and the narrator's voice. Meg, I swear to god the guy sounded just like Cas. Everything reminds me of him."

"Well, I guess Dr. Sexy is making a house call tonight to take your mind off of him. Come on," Meg nudged Dean as she passed him on her way to her living room, plopping down into a plush armchair and picking up her remote, queuing up the second season on Netflix via her Playstation. "We're going to have to find you someone to sleep with, Dean, and soon because this whole pining thing is not a good look for you."

"Says the girl who hasn't dated anyone since she got dumped by that British model."

"Bella and I were different," Meg snapped as Dean settled down onto her couch, kicking off his boots and pulling all of the throw pillows under his head. "We dated for two years, Dean. I met her parents, I knew her favorite color, her middle name, fuck I knew her phone number which is more than you can say about Castiel."

The two sat in a tense silence for a couple of moments as the first episode began playing on the screen. Over seven seasons the intro hadn't changed very much, it showed all of the main characters looking suitably well-lit and wind-swept in hospital scrubs with dramatic scenes peppered in until it reached the part where guest star's names flashed along the bottom of the screen and the episodes began in earnest.

Dean heard his friend sniffle and looked over to see Meg surreptitiously wiping tears off of her make-up free face, looking so much younger without the caked on eyeliner and red lipstick she wore to work. He realized that Meg and Jo and Jess were very much like the little sisters he had never wanted and he instantly felt bad for bringing up his friend's past relationship that had ended so unexpectedly and painfully.

"Meg, I'm sorry." He said nudging her arm with his foot. Meg rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest. "Really, I am. You're right. Cas and I, we weren't anything compared to you and Bella. I need to stop being so stupid about the whole thing. I'll call that guy I went out with tonight, he wasn't that bad of a kisser."

_**'Code Blue in the Emergency Room. All cardiac doctors please report to the area, stat.'**_

The show was still playing in the background and Dean felt like maybe he should be watching because Dr. Sexy could actually get pretty confusing pretty fast if you weren't paying close enough attention. You never knew when you were watching a flashback or if someone got amnesia or just discovered their evil twin. It was what made the show so compelling. But he also needed to make things right with his friend, pretty much his best friend even though his banter with the smaller woman sometimes hit a little too close to home.

"You're not being stupid, Dean." Meg sighed heavily. On the television Dr. Sexy emerged from the elevator into the emergency room even though he was the head of surgery and not specifically cardiac, Dean still felt pretty certain he could handle the whole code blue drama the show had going on. "Just not very realistic. The guy left you, if he liked you in the way you thought he did then he would've stuck around, you're not a hard person to love. It's nothing wrong with you so it has to be something he's got going on, but if you spend the rest of your life waiting around on Cas, who you've built up to be this perfect person in your head, you could miss out on something else. Don't settle, but know that you deserve someone who wants you as much as you want them."

"So I'm not calling the guy from earlier," Dean stated blandly wrapping his arms around his chest.

Dr. Wang, Seattle Mercy Hospital's most prominent and arrogant heart surgeon, stood over the bloodied body of a man, a scalpel clutched in her hand as she barked orders at the nurses and orderlies around her.

_'I need this man's vitals now! And where are the paddles, if he dies it's going to be due to your stupidity, Middleton!'_

Meg grumbled as her favorite nurse burst into tears on the screen and fled from the crowded room, pushing past Dr. Sexy who gazed after her with a look of longing. They had broken up at the end of the first season when his family didn't approve of her Midwestern roots and her night, school diploma.

_'Wang,'_ Dr. Sexy intoned, moving to stand across the stretcher from the other doctor his cowboy boots ringing out loudly on the tiled hospital floors. _'You want to give me one good reason why you defied my direct orders. I told you to take some time off, get your head on straight. I need a surgeon who is going to save lives, not risk her own by overworking herself. Get out of my hospital, now.'_

_'I can do this doctor,' _Wang said shaking her head and exchanging her scalpel in favor of two shock paddles offered to her by another nurse. _'This man shouldn't be going into cardiac arrest, he just fainted while he was driving. You need me here, I'm the only one who can find out what's wrong with him. Let me save him, doctor."_

The male doctor looked down at the body between them, but the camera stayed focused on the inner struggle he was having with letting the female doctor stay. _'We took an oath, Wang. Get on with it!'_

The Asian woman's face settled into a resolved sternness and Dean had never liked the actress, thought she was too uptight and serious, a real buzzkill compared to the rest of the cast. So during her moment of what was sure to be either triumph at saving the man or utter crushing, defeat that she lost another patient because she couldn't think clearly, he decided to get up, rescue the cookies before they turned into hockey pucks, and go order some Chinese food so that he and Meg would have time to eat before they had to head up to the bar in a little under two hours for work.

He was trying to remember if Meg liked moo-shu chicken or pork better when he heard the smaller woman screeching his name from where he had gone into the kitchen to get the number for the restaurant off of the memo pad she had attached to her fridge and a drink.

"DEAN!" Meg shrieked, flailing around for the remote control that she had dropped in her excitement over whatever it was that she had seen on the screen. "Get the fuck in here! Holy shit, Dean you are never going to believe this. Fuck, I don't fucking believe it. Tell me I'm not seeing things here."

"What are you talking about?" He asked scooping up the remote off of the floor and handing it to the woman who was half hanging out of the chair from where she had been stretching to grab it out from underneath the coffee table.

Dean glanced at the screen and tried to be as excited as Meg seemed to be over the fact that Dr. Sexy and Dr. Piccolo were making out on one of the empty beds in the coma ward, again. Maybe this was one of the boob scenes that the smaller woman had been getting all hormonal over since they had gotten back into the HBO seasons with the previous boxset they had watched.

"God, not this. Fuck this." Meg said hurriedly, punching at the buttons until the episode was rewinding back to right around the time Dean had heard his name called.

It was just a couple of seconds of footage, not even enough to really be considered a full scene, and what little light there was was shining mostly on Dr. Wang who was asleep in a chair next to a patient's bed, her head cradled on her arms with one hand holding the limp fingers of the bloodied man that she had been working on in the emergency room.

"Okay," Meg said punching the pause button on the part where you could best see the man's face. "Now tell me if I'm going crazy or something. But isn't that..."

"Cas" Dean whispered, dropping heavily back down on the couch as his knees gave out underneath him.

The other man looked different, younger, more like the picture on his old Myspace page only with painted on dark circles under his eyes and subtle light brown highlights in his hair. He looked smaller and more vulnerable in the hospital gown that he was wearing on the screen and Dean's heart twisted painfully at how realistically sick he looked.

"Dean," Meg said, snapping him out of how he was just dumbly looking at the screen by getting up and placing her hands on his shoulders. "I though you said he was a producer."

"He is. I mean, that's what he told me he did." Dean replied trying to wrap his head around Castiel being a character in one of his favorite TV shows.

"Then why is he on Dr. Sexy, Dean?"

"I don't know, Meg!" he snapped, running a hand through his hair. Did Cas lie to him? Yea, he had been scared that the man had been too good to be true, but he thought that the other man was better than that. That their night together was more than the deceit that made up most of his encounters with other guys. "I just...I don't know, alright. Just...fuck...just play the show or something. Until I figure all of this shit out."

They watched the remaining forty minutes or so of the episode and Cas appeared intermittently in the background, always unconscious and usually just out of focus as the doctor's talked about how he was doing and if he was going to wake up. Dr. Wang was particularly concerned about his well-being, going out of her way to find out his name, in the show Cas was Brett Thompson, and inform his family of his 'accident'.

When the credits for the episode started scrolling past, Meg paused it again and got really close to the television so that she could read the small script. She ran a finger over the words until she landed on the name for Cas's character and then tracked across until it matched up with the actor's name listed beside it.

"James Collins," She said glancing over her shoulder at Dean for a moment who had just buried his face in his hands when the other woman had gotten up, letting out a strangled sounding groan.

Meg darted towards her bedroom and Dean took the chance to look at the ceiling hard so that he could blink away the tears that were stinging his eyes, he just felt so stupid for thinking Cas was different. But he wasn't, everything that he had told Dean was just another big fucking lie, like everything else in California was. He needed to pull himself together, Dean and Meg had to be at work soon and he couldn't go in all red-eyed and miserable, that wouldn't be fair to either him or Jess who he knew relied on their pooled tips just as much as he did.

"What are you doing, Meg?" Dean croaked out, grabbing his boots and putting them on before moving towards the smaller woman's bedroom.

He found her sitting at the desk she had there, her face illuminated by the glow of her computer as she scrolled through pages and pages of pictures of Castiel, which had been brought up with the name James Collins. Meg clicked over to another tab as he stood over her shoulder, pulling up an IMDB page that listed everything he had done, clicking down the page until he could see that it started with his appearances in _Dr. Sexy M.D._

"Dean," Meg began turning and placing a hand on one of his that were gripping the back of her office chair hard. "I'm sure there's a reason why he-"

"Just get ready for work, Meg." He said hollowly, tearing his eyes off of the screen and shaking off her hand before he left the bedroom without another word.

* * *

Cas was pretty if you looked up suicidal in the dictionary, you would see a big picture of him. He knew he was asking for trouble by going back to the bar, but as soon as Alfie had crossed over onto the bay area peninsula he was making up some excuse about meeting with Roche for some pre-production celebratory drinks at Dean's bar, which wasn't a complete lie.

Balthazar had called him over the weekend, he assumed the Brit had gotten his private number from Crowley, to ask him to meet to discuss some issues he was having with locations and finding a reliable editor. Castiel didn't really see how any of those things were his problem, but he wanted to stay in the director's good graces so he had agreed to a dinner with the other man scheduled for a couple of days after he got settled into his rented house in Sea Cliff. He was a nice guy after all; it was kind of what he was known for.

But just because he was nice, it did not mean that he was above lying to his young driver who had started to become almost like a friend to him in order to maneuver himself into a position where he might see Dean again. So he had Alfie drop him off at The Neighbourhood around 8pm when the club would still be mostly empty so paparazzi probably wouldn't be around and he could slip in with a minimal amount of attention being drawn to himself.

Just in case though, he had worn his trench coat over his jeans and dark grey plaid button down, a Red Sox cap covering his messy hair, and dark aviators that were completely different from his normal glasses. Cas just hoped it would be enough to make him look nondescript and insubstantial.

He dropped his name with the bouncer manning the VIP area and slid into one of the darkened booths that sat on the edges of the room. Castiel stripped off his meager disguise and ran though the explanations he had come with for Dean in his head, all of them were trite and probably wouldn't be enough to make up for him running out on the other man, but he needed to explain and apologize because he just couldn't stand the thought of Dean hating him. If there was one person he didn't want hating him, it was Dean.

"What can I get for you, honey?" A blonde waitress sidled up, scratching distractedly at a notepad balanced on a round black serving tray. He recognized her as one of the girls that had been working the night he had met Dean, but he couldn't remember what the other man had called her.

"Something strong, please." Castiel said wringing his hands anxiously as she looked up at him wide-eyed when he spoke.

"You!" She exclaimed, jumping up and down a bit, causing her curly blonde hair to bounce around her shoulders. "It's you! Ohmygod, Dean talked about you for like a week last time you were here. Where have you been?"

"I'm not from around here," Castiel admitted, smiling earnestly at the girl as she perched on the edge of the booth, settling her tray on the table and propping her head up on one hand. "Is Dean working tonight?"

"Ummm... later I think. I'm Jess by the way, if you need anything at all just yell for me or send me flowers. You have really good taste in flowers, by the way."

Cas blushed at the compliment, mostly because he knew that he didn't deserve it. The flowers had been a last minute gesture to try to soothe his guilty conscience, back when he thought that maybe he could forget about Dean and how the other man had made him feel like just being Castiel Krushnic was enough for someone to want him, instead of hiding behind the charming disguise of James Collins all of the time.

"Do you think he liked them?" Castiel asked softly, earning a little slap on the hand from Jess.

"I know he did, but you've been gone a while." Jess bit her lip and leaned closer to him, like she was about to tell him a secret. "Dean's not very good with people leaving him, so I hope you've come to sweep him off of his feet or something because I think that's what it's going to take for you to get him back."

"I just came to apologize," the man said sadly, wishing that he could do more, tell Dean how he felt more alive when they had kissed than he had in the last five years.

"Oh," the girl said sounding disappointed as she climbed to her feet. "That's too bad, you guys were real cute together and I know that he likes you. Anyway, I'll be right back with your drink, Mr. Collins."

Castiel nodded at the tabletop, feeling entirely miserable about the whole situation that he had found himself in before his head shot up and he jumped out of the booth to race after Jess who was heading towards the bar where he had first seen Dean that was now being tended to by a wispy, looking redhead. He caught the blonde by the arm, being careful not to hurt her, but this was a threat level orange situation if she had just called him what he thought she had.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked urgently, his eyes searching her face and pleading with her to say no, of course not.

"You're James Collins," Jess said with a shrug, giving him a confused look at the panic that must have crossed his face. "Right? I'm a big Hitchcock fan and I've been following the story about Roche's new movie."

Castiel nodded and cursed himself for being so stupid as he forced a smile on his face, edging away from the girl so that he could grab his stuff and bolt before someone else who knew who he was and what had happened with him and Dean saw him. Crowley's plan to make him a household name was working, but it was causing any chance he had of reconciling with Dean to slip farther and farther away.

"Um, J-J-Jess. Just forget about that um...drink. I've got to go," he stammered feeling just as frightened and out of sorts as he had when his mom had walked in on him making out with that guy who worked at the pizza place when he was a teenager.

Cas spun on his heel only to run straight into a warm, solid wall that he was pretty sure hadn't been behind him before, causing him to fall gracelessly on the floor. He looked up, blushing and feeling like a complete moron for even thinking this was a good idea in the first place, to see Dean standing over him with an expression that couldn't seem to settle as it flitted between anger, confusion, and elation.

"Hello Dean." Castiel croaked out in a small voice, slowly getting up from the floor and dusting himself off.

"Cas." Dean said shortly. "Or maybe I should call you Jimmy? I think James is a little too formal after everything we've done, don't you agree?"

This was not how he had pictured their reunion going at all.

"I can explain-" Castiel began, taking a step closer to the other man and reaching up automatically to smooth away the frown that was creasing Dean's brow.

"Don't fucking touch me," Dean hissed batting his hand away. "You're nothing but a liar and a fake, stay away from me."

Castiel wanted to make the hurt he could see in those beautiful green eyes go away, he never wanted Dean to look like that again, because of him or anyone else. But he was also painfully aware of how many eyes and by proxy how many camera phones were on them right now and this was really a conversation that needed to move to somewhere more private before it ended up on Youtube.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" He pleaded quietly with Dean, hoping that the other man could hear the sincerity in his voice.

The muscles in Dean's jaw clenched and he fixed Castiel with a hard stare before a small hand with red-painted nails settled on the other man's arm and a small dark haired woman pulled Dean to the side to talk in heated whispers. Cas watched, glancing around at the other scattered patrons and smiling sheepishly, as the woman gestured wildly towards where he was standing a couple of times and Dean just stood there shaking his head with his hands on his hips until the woman grabbed his chin and turned it towards Castiel, leaning in to say one last thing to him that made the emerald hardness of Dean's eyes soften towards him for a moment.

"Fine," he heard the other man snap, shaking off the woman's hand and pointing a finger at her. "But I'm using your office."

"Just pick up after yourself, Winchester." the woman said smugly, walking up to Castiel and pinching him on the cheek lightly. "I bought you some time, angel. Don't fuck it up again."

Castiel nodded at her stunned and followed behind Dean when the other man started stalking across room and back down the mirrored hallway where they had first kissed. The other man led him into a room marked 'Employees Only' that had a row of lockers against one wall and a scarred folding table with some chairs scattered around it and through that into a small office that branched off.

He walked ahead of the other man into the dimly lit room and flinched when the door shut loudly behind them. When Castiel turned around to look at Dean he was struck again by how beautiful the other man was, even when he was angry and standing all closed off with his arms crossed over his chest and a thunderous expression on his face.

"I don't know where to begin," he said timidly, every speech he had rehearsed in his head had abandoned him and all that he was left with was Juno's comments about how he was mad for letting public opinion dictate who he was with, especially since he was so miserable after meeting Dean and having his time with the other man stolen from him, a sentiment that she had relayed to him when he had gone over to eat dinner with her and Patrick the night before after packing his bags with the things he would need while in San Francisco.

"How about you start with something that isn't a complete fucking lie? Shit, I don't even know what your real name is at this point. Who the fuck are you?" Dean said moving around the room so that he could sit in one of the chairs that faced the large desk in the center of the room.

"Well, it's not James Collins." Castiel snapped childishly. "I didn't lie to you about anything, Dean."

"Oh, so you are a movie producer then? And all of the acting credits under your belt are what? Your hobby?"

"You're the one that said I was a movie producer, Dean! I just said I worked in film. I wanted to tell you, but everything with us just happened so fast and it didn't seem important at the time."

"Because you knew that you weren't going to stick around long enough for me to ever have to know who you really were!" The other man spat at him, slamming down a clenched fist on his leg and letting out a frustrated growl. "Just tell me who you are, Cas."

"Fine!" Castiel said throwing his arms out to his side and moving to stand in front of Dean, not really caring in the man decided to punch him once he got out what he needed to say because then at least he would have said it and he could move on with his fucking life.

"My name is Castiel Dmitri Krushnic! I'm from Boston, Massachusetts, my mom's name is Amelia and my dad's name is Charles, he's a third generation Russian immigrant who taught English literature at Boston College. My stage name is James Collins because I used to jerk off to James fucking Dean when I was a teenager and my mom's maiden name is Collins. My asshole, Scottish agent thought it would be easier for the idiotic American public to pronounce than my real fucking name!"

Dean sat open mouthed and shocked looking in front of him, but Castiel couldn't stop, now that he was on a roll it just kept coming, all of the frustration he had been holding onto since leaving the other man's apartment almost a month ago, how tired he was of not being in control of his own life anymore, just came spilling out like a never ending flow of toxic sludge.

"I hate California! I can't stand the beach, I get sunburned practically anytime I step foot outside without sun-screen on. I miss the east coast and how everyone there was a sarcastic, ironic fucking know it all, but at least they were more genuine that most of the people I've met here! And I missed you! I don't even fucking know you, but the one fucking night I spent with you is the first time I've been happy about anything since moving to this god-forsaken pit. So, I'm sorry Dean! Alright!? I'm just as bad as all of the other soulless, shallow career-driven assbutts in this place. I'm just so sorry that I messed things up with you...is that enough? Do you know enough now?"

Castiel was out of breath and panting from his rant and it was nothing like what he had originally planned on saying, but it pretty much covered how he was feeling so all he could do was wait for Dean forgive him so that he could go back to his empty life and his meaningless career with just the knowledge that this amazing man didn't hate him.

Dean stood up quickly, fists clenched at his sides and his eyes blazing. The flight portion of Cas's brain told him to back down because Dean was bigger and probably stronger and he was supposed to start filming in a week, which he couldn't do if he had a broken nose. Hands shot out to grip the front of his shirt as the other man pushed him back hard against the desk, causing the drawers to rattle and several pens to roll off of the edge onto the floor.

"God," Dean breathed, looking between Castiel's eyes with an intensity that had him second guessing exactly how this exchange was going to end. "I fucking missed you too."

The other man crushed their lips together and Castiel reached up to grab onto Dean's arm, intending to push him away because if this happened then it was just going to be harder when it all had to end again. But they landed on the other man's face instead, pulling him closer as they scrabbled for purchase against the smooth skin of Dean's cheeks, his thumbs brushing over the other man's cheekbones and around to the sides of his jaw in order to keep him from ever ending their desperate kiss.

He felt Dean press closer to him until the other man was flush against him, his hands moving to Castiel's hips in order to lift him until he was seated on the edge of the desk and Dean had moved between his knees. Cas slid one of his hands back into the larger man's hair and he felt the other man shiver when his short nails scratched against his scalp, groaning into their kiss and allowing Castiel to slide his tongue into the hot cavern of Dean's mouth.

Kissing Dean was better than he had remembered, making his stomach roil in a pleasant way, like a rollercoaster reaching its peak right before the bottom dropped out on the downhill slope and all you could see was sky as the adrenaline and elation raced through you. The smell of pumpkins and spice and crushed autumn leaves invaded his senses and all he wanted to do was breathe the other man in until they wouldn't ever have to be apart again.

"I missed you, Cas." Dean murmured, breaking away so that he could breathe but keeping his forehead pressed against Castiel's and his hands on the other man's hips so that he couldn't run away. "I thought I had made you up, that you weren't real. I didn't know what I had done wrong to make you leave…"

"I'm sorry," Castiel replied, moving back in for another kiss in order to keep Dean from blaming himself for something that neither one of them could control. "You did nothing wrong. Dean, you're perfect."

"So what now?" The other man asked hesitantly, Castiel could hear the real question in Dean's voice and it broke his heart when he pictured the bartender with someone else, feeling for someone else how Cas was pretty sure he felt about Dean. "You're just going to disappear again?"

He pictured what might happen if Crowley were to find out about tonight, how mad his agent would be for him putting his career that they had worked so hard to finally get off of the ground in jeopardy for someone he couldn't even take out in public for fear of the paparazzi seeing them. And Castiel didn't really care, because his heart was pounding in his chest and the feel of Dean's hands where they had moved around to the small of his back gave him courage to face the Scotsman when the time inevitably came to do so.

"No," He said lowly, cupping Dean's jaw and smiling when the other man leaned slightly into the touch. "I'll stay."

Dean groaned and pushed his hands against Castiel's back until they were kissing again, fighting for dominance in a way that made heat pool in his stomach as he thought of Cas actually wanting to be with him, for real. Castiel's long fingers started fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and he kissed down the other man's jaw until his mouth was next to Cas's ear.

"Don't say it if you don't mean it, Cas. Don't lie to me again." He breathed hot and desperate, nipping at the stubble just below the other man's lobe.

"I'll stay, Dean." Castiel said pushing at Dean's shoulders until he could see the other man's face, so that the bartender could see how he meant every word he was saying. "I promise, I'll stay this time."

"Winchester! Let's go!" A feminine voice yelled through the doorway, accompanied by a sharp knock before it started to open. Meg stopped with a self-satisfied smirk settling on her face as she watched the two men hurriedly pulling apart of each other, Castiel's lips kiss swollen, Dean sporting a faint red tinge on his freshly-shaven jaw from where the other man's stubble had irritated his skin. "Great you two made up, now come on, Dean. You're not ducking out of another shift because of your boyfriend here. Clock in and get to work, main bar tonight."

Dean hurriedly did up the few buttons that Castiel had managed to get undone as they had kissed, throwing an annoyed look at his manager that he knew wasn't very convincing since he could feel himself smiling like an idiot when she called Cas his boyfriend. He looked over at the other man who was blushing furiously and biting his lip, fidgeting with his hands like he didn't know what to do now that Dean was going to be busy for the rest of the night.

"You don't have to leave," Dean said quickly, stilling Castiel's anxious movements with a hand on the other man's arm. "Meg? You'll make sure no one bothers him, right?"

"Of course!" Meg said catching on when Dean gave her a pleading looking and angled his head towards the other man. "I have nothing better to do all night, not like I have a bar to manage or anything."

The smaller woman moved to put and arm around Castiel, leading him towards the door of the office as Dean followed behind, feeling like this couldn't possibly be his life as he watched the oddly-matched pair moving back towards the main area of the bar, snagging seats at one end and talking about Joss Whedon and videogames like they had known each other for years.

"Bartender!" Meg shouted, gesturing between her and Cas as Dean slipped behind the counter, rolling up the sleeves on his button down and beginning to arrange things how he liked. "We're gonna need some shots down here. Chop chop!"

* * *

**Author Note:**

The poem mentioned in the story is called The Bees by Bruce Mackinnon. Also, obvs there are going to be mention of real actors/actresses as well as real movies and TV shows so don't freak out over liberties that I take with some of it. As far as I know Patrick Fugit and Juno Temple are not an item, but how cute would they be together! Anyway, let me know what you think if you're enjoying , not enjoying, if you want me to shut up already and forget how to type. Let me know.


	5. Chapter 5

"The vodka ish bad," Meg slurred, clutching onto the shoulders of the two men carrying her. "No one should drink it. Tell them not to drink it, Jimbo."

She had started the evening thinking that it would be easy to get Castiel drunk, if the man was anything like Dean described- all nerdy and innocent and sweet, then it was going to be a walk in the park to drink him under the table and have him spewing to her how he really felt about her friend. Why he had bothered coming back when he already had his out. What she had not been counting on was Castiel being from Boston and at least one quarter Irish on his mother's side, making him a force to be reckoned with when it came to alcohol consumption.

"I don't like that nickname," Castiel groused from somewhere under her left arm, grunting slightly when Dean left him to shoulder her weight as he carefully leaned the seats of her Mustang forward so they could lay her out in the backseat.

"Well, then what am I shupposed to call you?" Meg practically screamed in the man's ear causing him to wince away as Dean laughed at him. "Casshteal, that's your secret name and your honey bunny glares at me when I call you Caz…Casssshh..fuck I've got this, when I can you CAS. James is stuffy, I don't like James."

"Call me whatever you want, Meg." The man said dropping her back into the seat and watching as Dean carefully helped her scoot back until she was propped up against the interior on the driver's side, blinking at him owlishly with a little disgruntled frown on her face. "Just not Jimbo."

"Imma call you Clarence," Meg declared firmly as the two men slid into the front seat of her car, giving each other happy little smiles that they probably thought she wouldn't see.

"Why Clarence?" Dean asked, adjusting her driver's seat to accommodate his bow legs and hurriedly turning down the radio when Alanis Morrisette started blaring out as soon as the car was turned on.

Meg could feel the alcohol trying to pull her down and it just was so hard trying to keep her head up so she flopped her loose limbs around until she had propped her chin up on the corner of Dean's seat and she could whisper her answer so that Cas wouldn't hear it and end up getting freaked out by how much he meant to her friend.

"Becaussh, you were misherable and he's the angel that is saving you from yourshelf." Meg mumbled, giggling quietly to herself as she lurched over to perch on Castiel's seat so she could start singing 'Buffalo Gals' into his ear.

She fell asleep as they were driving, drooling slightly onto Castiel's trench coat that he had put back on along with his hat and sunglasses before they left the bar. In the morning she would remember a vague dream about hands clasped together and murmured apologies, backlit by a dim reddish glow that outlined the two men when they had leaned close together, almost kissing but not for reasons that she couldn't really remember. When Dean carted her up to her apartment, thrown over his shoulder in a fireman style carry that would've had her swooning if he had longer hair and ovaries all she could think about was how she had just gotten the interior of her car detailed.

"Don't fuck him in my car," Meg mumbled into Dean's back, slapping at his butt because it was the only part of him that she could really reach that wouldn't cause both of them to end up on the floor.

"I'm too old to be having sex in cars, Meg." Dean replied, tossing her unceremoniously onto her bed and pulling off her boots with a muffled grunt. "And my car is bigger anyway."

"You're never too old to be having sex that's what Viagra is for. Just don't do it in my car," Meg said rolling over onto her stomach and burying her face in her pillow, falling back into a deep depressant related slumber.

"What did she say?" Castiel asked, folding up his sunglasses as he meandered into the room, looking around at all of the feminist art and aggressive grrrl-power posters on the walls with an adorably confused expression on his face that had Dean's heart beating faster in his chest.

"She said she likes you," Dean lied, but then again he didn't really think it was a lie because Meg didn't just hand out nicknames like candy; she reserved them for people who she thought were worth it.

"Oh that's good," Castiel said with a shrug, pulling off his baseball cap and scrubbing a hand through his hair with a sigh. "I feel kind of bad for getting her so drunk. Vodka is just like water to me. I mean, I'm mostly Russian. If she wanted to get me talking she should've done whiskey."

"Really?" Dean said quirking an amused eyebrow at the other man and wishing that he had bothered to restock his kitchen with alcohol after he had drank it all, but it was probably better if they weren't drunk when they had the conversation that he knew had to happen.

"Yep," Castiel replied leaning against the doorway of Meg's bedroom and smiling at him widely. "And tequila makes me a total slut."

"Duly noted."

Dean stepped close into Castiel's space and just leaned on him a bit, resting his head on the other man's shoulder and sighing tiredly. He was definitely feeling the effects of his late night, drinking himself to sleep the night before and now that Cas was here, like really here all he wanted to do was drag the other man to bed and go to sleep wrapped up together. He also wanted to just fuck him into the closest mattress, but Dean had decided to wait for that until after they talked, after they set the boundaries that he knew the other man would want for whatever it was they were doing.

The thought had been growing in his mind as he worked, periodically moving down towards the end of the bar where Cas and Meg had parked themselves to refill their drinks and flirt subtly with the other man in a way that made Castiel's eyes light up when he laughed at Dean's cheesy pick up lines. It felt so comfortable and familiar, like they had never been apart and it wasn't until the bar had started getting busy that Dean noticed how many stares Cas was getting. Not just the kind of stares that someone as good looking as the other man probably got on a regular basis, it was the stares of the general public suddenly finding themselves confronted with someone famous.

It happened more in California than Dean would've thought, he had just assumed that everyone who lived here would be so over seeing celebrities that they would treat them like just another person, cut them off in their car or be rude to them in the line at the grocery store because really they were just people like everyone else. But that star-struckness was still there, like it was embedded into human DNA to fall all over themselves fawning at people who just happened to look good on a big screen or under studio lights.

The first girl who had stepped up to ask Castiel for his autograph had been pretty in the kind of way that only money could buy, with big fake, looking tits and a spray tan that made her look orange in the blueish lighting of the bar. She had leaned all over Cas, splaying her chest across his back as she watched over his shoulder while he signed the piece of paper that she had pulled out of her purse. He had laughed at something the girl had whispered in his ear and shook her hand in a gentlemanly way before turning back to Meg and continuing to talk to Dean's friend with an air of someone who has had practice with tuning people out.

Dean had been burning with jealously as he watched the whole exchange while restocking the bottled beers in the cooler until Castiel had caught his eye and winked at him, blowing a covert kiss in his direction that Meg had teased the other man about for the next half hour. It had continued throughout the night, both men and women coming up and talking to Cas excitedly about some movie he was going to be in, some openly flirting with him and others just asking for his autograph or a picture with the actor before drifting back off to their friends. That had been when Dean first realized how much Cas was risking by being with him, hell by just being in the same building as him.

It wasn't just about getting jumped in an alleyway for making eyes at another man. That had happened to Dean on more than one occasion, but most of the time Sam had been close by to help him out if he was too hopelessly outnumbered. No, they were putting Castiel's entire reputation at stake by being together; watching each other move around the room in a way that was so heavy with unspoken emotion that Dean felt like surely, everyone could tell that they were more than casual acquaintances.

And that was why he had been hesitant to touch Castiel since leaving the bar even though all he had wanted to do was straddle the other man where he was sitting in the passenger seat of Meg's car that they had driven to the bar because Dean had still been too angry about finding out who Cas really was to trust himself behind the wheel and kiss the worry lines off of the other man's face, replacing them with an expression that he had only seen one other time before. The one from when they had slept together the first time, it was that contended happy smile that Castiel had gotten when Dean had curled up against him that the larger man ached to see.

Cas had made the first move, taking his hand in the sparsely lit interior of Meg's Mustang. Keeping their hands low on the gear shift between them so that anyone driving next to them couldn't see and almost kissing Dean after the millionth time he had apologized for yelling at Castiel in the middle of the bar, but catching himself at the last minute and just squeezing Dean's hand hard instead.

Dean just wanted to be able to hold him and touch him and prove to his still skittish mind that Cas was here, actually here and he had promised to stay. But after seeing the attention he had gotten in the bar he couldn't, so now just leaning into Castiel's shoulder felt like a gift after having held himself back from showering affection on the other man like had wanted to do all night.

"You're tired," Castiel murmured above him, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist and rubbing at the small of the larger man's back with the palm of his hand. "Do you want to go home?"

"Yes." Dean groaned gratefully, arching his aching back into the other man's firm touch.

"I'll call my driver to come and get me," the other man said pulling back with a resigned sigh. "And I guess we'll just have to make plans to see each other."

"Oh, I thought…nevermind, it's stupid. I'll just give you my number and you can call me when you aren't busy or whatever. I know you have a lot to do."

Dean pulled away from Cas quickly so that the other man wouldn't see the hurt expression he knew was on his face, it was silly. Castiel wasn't tied to him, didn't owe him anything so Dean didn't know why he had been expecting the other man to want to come back to his apartment when he probably had a big hotel room waiting for him somewhere. But he was going to make sure that Cas had a way to contact him and vice versa because Dean would be damned if he lost the other man again over something as stupid as not knowing his phone number.

"Wait," Castiel said, catching Dean's arm as he started down the hallway and towards Meg's kitchen. "What did you think?"

"It's nothing, Cas." Dean said softly, shaking off the hand and grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge along with the bottle of Tylenol that he knew his friend kept above the sink next to her own emergency alcohol stash.

"It's not nothing to me, Dean. If you're having second thoughts about this then I want to know because I don't want to start off this relationship with any more deceit."

"Is that what this is?" Dean asked hesitantly, happy that he his hands were full because otherwise they would be shaking. "A relationship?"

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Castiel asked his brow furrowing in frustration. "Isn't that why you asked me to stay?"

"Of course that's what I want Cas," Dean replied, fighting back the warmth that had bloomed in his chest because he just couldn't let the other man make a sacrifice like that for him, he wasn't worth it. "But you're already sneaking around just trying to talk to me at all, what are we supposed to do if we want to go on a date? And eventually someone is going to see us together. I may not be from around here, but I've seen the kind of gossip that gets spread about celebrities and I don't want you to put your career at risk for me."

"Can't you just let me worry about that?" Castiel asked gently taking the water and medicine out of Dean's hands and moving so that he could circle his arms around the larger man's waist, tugging him close and sliding his hands into the back pockets of Dean's jeans in one smooth gesture. "If I thought that any of that mattered I wouldn't be here. I really like you Dean, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you for the last month, and now that we're together I can't think of anywhere else I would rather be."

Castiel's voice had gotten low and sincere as he spoke, moving closer and closer to Dean until he was saying those beautiful, sincere words right against the larger man's neck and it was enough. Enough to make Dean forget that this was going to get worse before it got better, that he was probably going to have to sneak around with Castiel like some closeted schoolboy, and that for now things like dates and public displays of affection were going to be off limits. But if it meant that he got Castiel Krushnic while the rest of the world got the facsimile that was James Collins, then he could deal with it for now.

"Okay," Dean said as the other man started placing soft little kisses along his throat. "Then don't call your driver, come home with me."

Castiel hummed from somewhere beneath his chin where the other man had buried his face in Dean's neck, "I thought you were tired."

"I am tired, but I want to get a do-over at waking up together and I never got to make that breakfast I promised you."

"Of course, the omelets. How could I forget?" Castiel replied teasingly, pulling back slightly with a mischievous grin on his face.

Dean didn't know how long it would take before the desire to pinch himself awake went away, if it would ever go away because he wasn't sure that he wanted this dream to end if that's what it was. He set Meg up with the standard hangover supplies; a bottle of water, a couple of Tylenol, and her phone stowed away safely in the other room so that she would have to find it before she got up to send any embarrassing drunken texts to her ex.

The car ride over to his apartment was intense with Castiel just staring at Dean in a way that made him feel like the other man was trying to just take him apart piece by piece and memorize everything about him until Castiel could put him back together with his eyes closed, leaving traces of himself in the spaces between Dean's bones and muscles so that everyone would be able to tell that he was ruined for anyone besides the actor who was insane enough to risk everything for him. Dean had never felt so wanted by another person in his life and it scared him how mutual the feeling already was.

He decided to park Baby in the underground parking garage that his apartment had in order to be able to get Cas into the building without any suspicious eyes seeing which he normally didn't do because he liked to be able to look out of the window of his apartment and see his most prized possession right there, the one piece of his mom and dad that he still had. Dean thought that they would've liked Castiel if they were still alive, though his dad hadn't reacted positively at first when he had come out in junior high, the older man had eventually come to terms with the fact that Dean was still Dean and just because he liked guys didn't mean that had changed.

One of the last things John had said to him before the house fire that made Dean and Sam orphans happened was that all he wanted was for his sons to be safe and as happy with someone as he was with their mother, no matter what sex they were. After the funeral, Bobby had mirrored the sentiment but in a less subtle way when he kicked one of Dean's less savory conquests out of the house after the older boy had gotten the then sophomore Dean drunk at a party. He had still been trying to drown the pain of losing his parents and his home over the summer and Michael had provided a convenient outlet for him to rage and rebel against everything he felt like the world had taken from him. His surrogate uncle had been the first person to tell Dean that he deserved to be more than a notch in someone's bedpost.

"Who do I need to talk to about getting that elevator fixed?" Castiel puffed behind him as they climbed the stairs, stripping off the trench coat that he had put back on and throwing it over his shoulder while clinging desperately to the back of Dean's shirt. "Because I am not doing this every fucking day. No wonder you're in such good shape."

"You should see some of the delivery boys in this neighborhood," Dean said cautiously glancing around the hallway on his floor as he dragged Castiel up the last several steps before pulling the other man into a short, intense kiss. "They're hella buff."

"Hmmm," Castiel replied teasingly, crowding in close to Dean as he turned around to unlock his front door. "Well if those are the kind of tips you're handing out then maybe I'm in the wrong business."

"Sleep." Dean said firmly, even though he was mentally cursing himself for drinking the night before because now he didn't have the energy to do anything.

Jo waking him up for that stupid, pointless date hadn't helped either and the guilt he felt for leading Aaron on was nagging at one corner of his mind. He would probably have to come up with a good reason to give Jo about why he had no intention of calling the other man back because Dean was pretty sure the excuse of 'I'm in a secret relationship with an actor who kisses me like the world is ending' was not going to cut it. Dean just smiled when Castiel started undressing him as soon as the door shut, surely Cas could help him come up with something to tell people.

Dean had batted the other man off by the time they reached his bedroom. Even though Cas had already gotten most of the buttons of Dean's shirt undone, Dean just watched with what he knew had to be a dumbstruck expression on his face as Castiel started pulling off the layers he was wearing until the actor was just striped down to a white undershirt and a pair of blue boxers that the larger man couldn't help up admire when Cas bent over to rummage around in his trench coat, pulling out a small case for contacts and his glasses. The other man just smirked at Dean and wandered off into the bathroom for a couple of minutes before he returned with his glasses in place, yawning in an exaggerated way that turned into an even more exaggerated pout when he saw that Dean did have underwear on this time.

"I don't know whether to be flattered or disappointed," Castiel said crawling into Dean's bed and automatically settling on the side closest to the window, the side that Dean didn't sleep on. It gave him a warm fuzzy feelings to see the other man in his bed like he belonged there, fluffing up the pillows and fidgeting with the blankets until he had them how he liked them. "And I used your toothbrush, hope you don't mind."

"Gross now I'm gonna get cooties," Dean supplied with a smile, plugging in his cell phone to its charger on his nightstand and turning off the light before he climbed into bed beside Cas.

"You're a stupid jerkface," Castiel replied turning his back on Dean with an adorable little huff.

He pulled the other man up against his chest in a protective reversal of their positions from the first night they had spent together. This felt so different, so much better and domestic and perfect in a way that Dean hadn't known that he wanted until now. Castiel's hair tickled his nose when he leaned down to kiss the other man on the top of his head and he wordlessly snatched the glasses off of Cas's face, putting them carefully on his bedside table and just marveling at how fucking normal it felt to do little things like that for the actor. It probably didn't mean as much to Cas as it did to him, but normal wasn't something that Dean much of in his life since his parents died and while this still couldn't completely fall into that category it felt closer than anything else he had ever had.

* * *

The first thought that Castiel had when he woke up was, _ugh, sun._

Because the light was streaming in through Dean's wide open blinds and his apartment was in the perfect position for the bright rays of mid-morning light to be glancing off of the other buildings around Dean's apartment complex and the water farther off in the distance, making the white painted walls seem brighter and harsher in comparison to the relative darkness that he usually kept his own bedroom in back home.

His second thought was a lot more pleasant because it centered around the soft kisses that Dean was placing on the back of his neck and how the other man's hand had slid under the shirt that he had slept in to run over his chest and abdomen with gentle, barely there caresses. Dean was murmuring something against his skin, but Castiel's mind was still too fuzzy to make out what the other man was saying so he just groaned at Dean's touch and tried to will away his already half-hard morning erection.

All he had wanted to do the night before was have Dean laid out underneath him, writhing and biting his lip and looking debauched just for him, but the other man was tired and the last thing Cas had wanted to do was make it seem like he only wanted Dean for another one night stand or some hook up. Dean wanted him to stay, wanted a relationship and so he could take things slow with all of this because he had never wanted anything as badly as he wanted the other man ever in his life. He was even ready to keep doing documentaries for the rest of his life if it meant he could wake up this way forever.

Dean's hand stilled on his chest when Castiel stirred and he could already feel the other man tensing up like he was going to pull away, so Cas just snuggled back deeper into the cavern of Dean's arms and put his hand over the one the other man still had on his chest.

"Don't stop," Castiel muttered sleepily. "S'feels good."

Dean huffed out a chuckle behind him, but tangled their legs together and resumed his movements, more purposeful now that he knew Cas could actually feel them. Running the flat of his palm over Castiel's pecs and up to trail his fingers across the dip of his collarbone before lightly raking his nails down and over his nipples in a way that had him arching back into Dean, feeling the hardness of the other man pressed up against the base of his spine.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Dean." Castiel warned teasingly as the other man's hand trailed down to toy with the waistband of his boxers.

He looked back over his shoulder and was met with the sight of Dean's vibrant green eyes boring into his own, pupils blown wide with lust and mouth slightly open from where he had started breathing heavily against Castiel's hair. Dean licked his lips and smirked at Cas before purposefully grinding his erection into his butt, the thin material not leaving much to the imagination as Dean quirked an eyebrow when the smaller man let out a strangled sounding whimper.

"Who said I can't finish it?" Dean replied lowly, sucking Castiel's earlobe into his mouth and nibbling on it slightly.

Castiel groaned and rolled his hips back onto Dean's erection, sucking in a sharp breath when the other man's hand slid deftly into his boxers and started stroking him to full hardness with slow, teasing movements. He reached one of his hands back to grab on to Dean's hip and was less than surprised to find that the other man was already naked.

"Wishful thinking again?" Castiel asked, biting back a moan when Dean ran a thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precome down his length as he continued to grind into Cas from behind and kiss his neck.

"With you sweetheart, always." Dean murmured softly, turning Castiel over onto his back and moving in to place a soft, sensuous kiss on his lips.

Castiel could feel Dean cupping his jaw and running his thumb over his cheekbones in a way that made his heart do that fluttering thing that had happened the first time he had been with the other man. It had to be something more than arousal because their mouths just fit together so perfectly and he felt like he could kiss Dean forever and never come up for air. The world could crumble around them and he would never know it because right now everything was perfect.

Strong hands pulled his shirt over his head and Castiel let out a little sound of disappoint that he had to stop kissing Dean in order to get it off, but before he could think too much about it Dean was climbing into his lap, straddling his hips and pushing down his boxers with urgent movements that his sleep-addled mind was still struggling to catch up with. Castiel kicked them off clumsily, not breaking his kiss with Dean even when he felt his cock slide slickly into the cleft of the other man's ass just groaning into their kiss as the larger man ran his hands over Cas's chest and arms.

"Cas," Dean breathed into his mouth, breaking away so that he could place a bruising, biting kiss on his collarbone. "I want you so much. I want everyone to know you're mine."

Castiel was too focused on how his hard cock felt pressed between the perfect, globes of Dean's ass to care that the other man was giving him a hickey that would put most teenagers to shame, he was thirty fucking two for christsakes, but that didn't mean that feeling Dean's teeth grazing against his skin was any less of a turn on. He had been holding tightly onto Dean's hips so that he wouldn't be tempted to thrust up into the other man without prepping him first, but Cas needed to feel Dean wrapped around him, connected with him so his heart could calm down since all it seemed to want to do was explode out of his chest with feelings he had for the other man.

He moved one of his hands around so that he could press into Dean first with his fingers so that he could get the other man accustomed to the intrusion; Castiel was nothing if not a considerate lover. Even with the guys that Crowley paid to sleep with him, he had always made sure that they enjoyed the experience as much as he did. To say that he was surprised when his probing fingers sunk deep into the other man without any resistance would have been an understatement, because his cock twitched at the low groan Dean let out above him when he pressed back eagerly into Castiel's hand and it took him pulling out his most inner zen moments that he used when he did yoga in order to stop himself from coming right then and there.

"Someone was busy this morning," Castiel said thrusting a second finger hard into Dean's already stretched and lubed hole causing the other man to groan again and clench his hands onto where they had settled on Cas's ribcage.

"Fuck, Cas." Dean said biting his lip as the slow, torturous pace that Castiel was setting as he scissored him open. "I made breakfast and you were still asleep. Oh god, yes uuh. What did you expect me to do?"

"Not this," Castiel replied, breathing evenly as he took in the sight of Dean's face still hovering over his own as he crooked his fingers to brush against the other man's prostate. "Figured you for more of a top."

Dean's eyes went wide when Castiel found it and he arched his back, letting out a moan of Castiel's name that made something primal and possessive stir in the smaller man. Castiel removed his fingers and pushed Dean gently up so that he could grasp ahold of his cock that was slick from a mixture of precome and the lube Dean had used on himself to and line it up to the other man's entrance.

Dean moaned as he sank down onto the thick length of Castiel's member, savoring how the other man stretched and filled him while he supported his weight with his hands on Cas's solid chest. The other man was watching him with a look of amazement on his face and Dean just smiled at how Castiel's eyes fluttered closed with a groan the first time he rolled his hips, flexing the muscles in his thighs in order to draw the other man even deeper until he could feel that Castiel had bottomed out inside of him.

"I'm on top now," Dean said, causing Castiel to laugh breathily beneath him. "So you weren't wrong and even if you were, can't a guy like both?"

"Of course, baby." Castiel murmured, running his thumbs over the sharp jut of Dean's hipbones before his grip on the other man became harder, more sure and forceful so that he could draw back and thrust up into the tight, heat encasing him. "You can be whatever you want."

"Ughhh, nice to know I have your permission, Cas." Dean managed to get out before he found himself struggling for breath as Castiel thrust hard and deep into him.

He tried his best to keep up, but before too long the muscles in his legs were burning and twitching and his vision was going all spotty every time Castiel stroked against his prostate. Dean's cock was curled up tight against his abdomen and he could feel the precome leaking out, running down the length and over his balls to pool on Castiel's stomach. He reached down a hand to stroke himself, biting his lip when Cas found the perfect angle to hit his prostate every single time he thrust into him. It was going to be embarrassing how short this all lasted, but fuck if anything Dean had ever done could be called love-making this might be it.

"Fuck, Dean." Castiel groaned as the larger man rode him; sweat beading off the muscles in Dean's chest and rolling down his temples in a way that made him want to lick the moisture off the other man. "You're oh, Christ ugggh so beautiful. Fuck."

Cas could feel his orgasm approaching and he moved one of his own hands from guiding Dean's movements to wrap it around the larger man's cock, mimicking the way the other man was stroking himself until Dean stopped and just put his hands back on Castiel's chest to steady himself as they reached a furious pace.

"Cas, sweetheart oh fuck," Dean groaned shutting his eyes and arching his back as the first ropy spurts of come shot out of his cock, striping across Castiel's chest and the bed as his climax overtook him.

It was the feel of the other man's hand on his cock that had pushed him over the edge, Castiel skin was just so much softer and his grip was so perfect and tight that Dean couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like when he finally laid his claim on the other man.

Castiel snapped his hips forward as Dean collapsed on top of him, pushing himself into the other man's heat that was still clenching deliciously around his cock from the aftershocks of Dean's orgasm. He groaned and babbled incoherently when he felt the other man reach around to gently squeeze his testicles before he was coming too, painting Dean's insides with his semen and digging his nails into the other man's hips in a way that he knew would probably leave marks, but right now he didn't care.

He had closed his eyes at some point, but Cas wasn't exactly sure when it had happened. He drew in shaky breaths and slowly pulled out of Dean, keeping his arms tight around the other man's waist so that his lover wouldn't try to leave. When he finally opened his eyes it was to Dean's wide, surprised verdant orbs staring at him, a shocked expression on the other man's face that had Castiel going over what had just happened so that he could figure out what he had done wrong.

"Cas?' Dean choked out, pushing up with his arms on either side of Castiel's face so that he could look at him. "Do...do you know what you just said?"

Castiel didn't, that was a weird little tick of his. Blurting out secrets in the middle of sex, he had once told one of his few college boyfriends that he sometimes liked to wear women's underwear and it had gotten very awkward for about a week before the other man had told him that he didn't date drag queens and broken up with him. Another time it had been about how scared he was of his dad dying and that had been a real mood killer, resulting in a tryst that had left him hard and confused and sad when his partner had bolted.

Dean's brow furrowed when he shook his head and he looked away like he was debating with himself before the other man scrubbed a hand over his face and propped his chin up on his fist looking at Castiel with a serious expression on his face.

"You said you loved me, Cas." Dean said, hoping that it wasn't some spur of the moment accidental think that would be rescinded.

He knew it was crazy to think that this thing he had with Castiel was already that serious, but Dean had jumped off the roof of his high school with just an umbrella his junior year and people had called him crazy then too. He hoped this impact wouldn't hurt as much as the one that had broken his ankle right before baseball season started.

Dean felt his stomach start to sink as Castiel remained silent beneath him, probably trying to figure out a way to explain away the declaration as endorphins or still not being fully awake in an effort to spare Dean's feelings. Cas must have heard it, what Dean had been saying to him before he knew the other man was aware of his touches. About how much he already cared about him and how he didn't mind being a secret as long as they were together. He wasn't expecting a bemused smile to quirk Cas's perfect, kiss-swollen lips or for the other man's blue eyes to get all big and sincere in a way that made Dean forget how to breath for a second.

"Because I do," Castiel replied simply, kissing Dean on the forehead and settling back into the pillows he was lying on like that was that.

"You love me?" Dean asked softly, his heart thudding painfully when Castiel just nodded his head beneath him and shut his eyes with a contended sounding sigh. "Well, um...I uh...love you too, Cas. God, we're psychos."

"As long as you don't stab me in the shower, I am fine with that designation." Castiel replied, cracking an eyelid at Dean and smiling before he made a stabbing motion with his hand towards Dean's side and mimicked the horror movie sound effect that went along with it.

"Speaking of showers..."

"No!" Castiel said tightening his hold around Dean's waist and burying his face in the larger man's neck. "Let's just stay here all day."

"Oh, trust me." Dean replied, reaching back to pry the other man's hands off. "I have every intention of calling into work tonight, Jo owes me for the favor I did her yesterday."

A cell phone started blaring 'Highway to Hell' from Dean's nightstand and the larger man automatically reached for it, thinking it was his before he remembered that he had changed his AC/DC ringtone to something that didn't remind him of Cas and climbing off of the other man to reach the nicer, iPhone that was farther away from where they were laying. He handed the phone to Castiel who took one look at it and groaned, slapping a hand over his eyes and kicking his legs around in the bed childishly.

Dean watched with an amused smile on his face until the other man answered and then he placed a soft kiss on Castiel's forehead, ignoring the pleading look the other man gave him before he wandered off to the bathroom.

"No, Crowley. I'm not at the house...where am I? At the gym, I just got done working out. The trainers here really ride you hard...yea...yea I'll call you when I get back to the house. Uh-huh, yes Crow. Yes, Fergus! Okay,bye."

He hadn't meant to be listening, but Dean had kept the bathroom door open as he cleaned up and brushed his teeth, wincing from the dull ache in his lower back that he knew would stay with him for the rest of the day. When Castiel finished up his call he popped his head around the door jam of his bedroom and saw that the other man had pulled his boxers back on and was sitting on the edge of the bed fiddling with is phone with a little frown on his face.

"Everything okay?" Dean asked, pulling his toothbrush out of his mouth.

"Yea," Castiel sighed, standing up and moving close to Dean, settling a hand on his neck and curling his fingers into the hair at the base of his head. "Do you feel up to taking a field trip today? Since you aren't going to go to work?"

"Sure, Cas." Dean said with a shrug, leaning into the other man's touch as the long fingers sifted through his hair. "Where are we going?"

"Well, you've shown me your place, twice now." Castiel replied raising a suggestive eyebrow at him. "How about I show you mine?"

* * *

Author Note: Bette late than never. This is my first attempt at writing full-on slash so...I hope it doesn't suck. Anyway, this story isn't dead and hopefully I'll get it back on track now. Much love and kisses to everyone who is commenting, reading and subscribing. You're stars.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel could see the question in Alfie's eyes, but his driver didn't ask it and not for the first time he was thankful that Crowley hired people who were discreet and tolerant to work closely with him. He used to think that people who could really care less about sexuality weren't all that hard to find, but when you tried to hire a genuinely good person to work for someone who was still mostly in the closet, well Castiel had just been surprised by how prevalent blackmail really was outside of movies and romance novels.

But the younger man didn't ask about why he was picking the actor up outside of the same apartment complex that he had a month before when they had first met and he had been threatened with having his tongue cut out by Crowley if he said anything to anyone about it. And he didn't ask about the big black car that had followed them out of the parking garage. And he didn't ask about why Castiel was sitting in the backseat wearing the same clothes that he had worn the night before, looking happy and smiling goofily any time his phone chimed out with a text message.

Alfie just talked about how much he missed his mom's cooking and Castiel was grateful for the commonplace chatter because it made everything seem so much more normal. Like he could really pull this off with Dean, have it all; relationship with a person he cared about and a career doing something that he loved. It was the American dream and he felt like maybe his slightly nutty grandmother on his dad's side had been right when she told him that one day he would be the reason why her parents had fled Soviet Russia during Lenin's rise to power, unknowingly allowing the Krushnic family line to avoid the much larger terrors of Stalin and Hitler that came only decades later.

He mused about the fact that a lot of the good things that seemed to happen to him and his family were mostly due to luck or being in the right place at the right time- his great-grandparents avoiding a labor camp, his grandparents surviving McCarthyism and the Red Scare even though they were fairly outspoken politically, his dad getting that fellowship in England when he was in graduate school and meeting his mom there, clicking because they were the only two American accents in the room. And he seemed to be the luckiest of them all, with the acting and landing this movie and Dean. Things that were too good to be true, but somehow still were.

Castiel's phone beeped in his hand and he looked down to see another text from the other man, even though he had asked Dean a couple of times now to not text and drive because he wasn't sure if his luck extended to the other man just because they were together. What would it take for fate to consider him an honorary Krushnic? Allowing him to be shielded under the same weird umbrella of good fortune that seemed to cover the rest of his family? He was pretty sure it would take more than just him saying that he loved Dean, but making a more public declaration of affection was off the table so he didn't want to tempt fate by letting Dean be reckless.

**[April 4, 2013 11:26AM] D.W.: **When is your birthday?

He rolled his eyes and typed back a reply even though he knew that it would only encourage the other man to keep sending him messages, like he had been doing ever since they had kissed one last time in Dean's apartment before putting enough space between them to appear to be on just the closer side of friendship to anyone who might be watching him. Castiel felt like he really should have asked Crowley who had taken the pictures of him and Dean together to begin with, but now that he was back in San Francisco he didn't want to raise his agent's suspicions unless absolutely necessary.

The first text had come before they had even made it all the way down the stairs and Castiel was confused for a second about how he already had Dean's number in his phone, but when he had asked Dean had just smiled smugly at him and brushed some hair out of his face for him before heading off to the parking garage, leaving Cas to wait out front for Alfie to pick him up. It had been asking him his favorite color and while a small part of Castiel knew that once up on a time the answer to that question would have been purple, he knew without a doubt now that it was green, the specific shade didn't matter as long as it could be found in Dean's eyes.

They had spent the morning together, eating breakfast and talking about their families; telling each other embarrassing little stories from their pasts that had crinkles forming at the corners of Dean's eyes when he threw his head back to laugh. He climbed into the shower with Dean this time, ignoring how cramped it was because it just meant he was closer to the other man who he just wanted to take out and show off to the world so they could see that you didn't have to be rich and famous to be happy and proud of who you were.

They had just kissed then, the quarters were too close for either of them to get more of a grasp on each other besides hands wrapped around shoulders and cradling faces, rocking their hips together in a slow motion that still made him come when Dean groaned his name as he sucked a matching dark mark onto the larger man's chest, right below the base of his throat. The two of them had stayed there until the water started getting cold and his phone started going off again with another phone call from Crowley telling him that Naomi's agent had been in contact with him saying that the actress didn't want to see him on the set.

The Scotsman's response had been colorful and one of his more creative ones, but Castiel had known the other man long enough to be able to recognize him just ranting because his feeling were hurt, gently ending the call as quickly as possible and telling him to go buy a suit or something because that always made his friend feel better. Crowley was coming down at the beginning of next week when they started principle photography, after talking to Roche about his poor choice in costars the other man had taken more of an interest in Castiel's new project than he ever had before and he knew that meant that he would just have to keep his relationship with Dean even more of a secret than he had originally thought.

But since Crowley wasn't here yet, Castiel figured he should take the chance to show Dean the house his agent had rented for him because once the other man was here he didn't know when the opportunity to do so would arise again. They pulled up to the gatehouse of the affluent San Francisco neighborhood with the Impala idling in the entranceway behind them and Castiel knew that he couldn't go any longer without offering some sort of explanation to his friend when the driver gently told the burly security guard that Dean's car needed to be put on the list of visitor's to be let into the gated community for Mr. Collins with no questions asked.

"Alfie—" Castiel began, trying to think of some way that he could explain away his relationship with Dean as being friends, friends who wanted to spend all of their time together and sleep in the same bed and probably, eventually hold hands in front of everyone they knew. He had never felt so juvenile in all of his life.

"Jimmy, it's fine." Alfie replied shortly, looking back at him in the mirror as he drove slowly along the meandering curving streets of the neighborhood towards the houses that were closer to the shoreline, getting bigger and bigger with each one they passed. "You don't have to explain anything to me; everyone is allowed to have secrets. And, anyway, I just work for you right? You'll probably want to introduce him to your parents first. I don't even have to see him if you don't want me too, that's what you pay me for."

"Has Crowley been talking to you?"

The driver gave him a tight-lipped smile and pulled up to the sprawling two story house that the Scotsman had gotten for his client, pushing a button that he had attached to the visor above his seat in order to make the doors to the garage open, revealing Castiel's dark purple convertible Porsche that he had had ever since he was a teenager, working the worst jobs imaginable so that he could afford to restore it slowly with the help of his friends in Boston who knew how to work on cars.

"Darla was delivered last night, that way you can get around on your own if you like." Alfie said avoiding the question as he slid the towncar into one of the empty spaces in the four car garage, side-eyeing the Impala which rumbled in behind them, Dean climbing out and immediately going over to the antique car to check it over. "Mr. Crowley has gotten me a hotel room nearby so if you need to be driven somewhere just give me a call, besides that you'll have your privacy so you don't have to worry about me interrupting you or anything."

"Alfie, I'm going to let you in on a little secret." Castiel said, watching Dean with a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. "I have exactly three categories of people in my life: people who work for me, people I work for, and friends. They are rarely mutually exclusive so yes, you do work for me. I sign your paychecks or my accountant does at any rate, but that does not mean that you aren't my friend. And I feel like I can trust you with this."

The younger man turned around in front seat, his expression warring between happy and scared; Castiel could only imagine the kind of tortures his agent threatened the driver with on a regular basis.

"He told me to make sure you didn't do anything stupid," Alfie admitted, biting his lip and glancing over at Dean who had climbed into the Porsche with a pleased expression on his face. "But I'm not going to spy on you, I think you should be allowed to have your own life."

"I appreciate that," Castiel said softly, people forgot sometimes that he was a person, not just a character; with desires and hopes for his future outside of winning an Oscar. "And you're not staying in some hotel that Crowley booked for you, this house is massive. Pick a room or if you want your own space then there's the guest house."

Alfie looked at him in an awe struck way and just nodded as the older man climbed out of the car, going over to lean against the Porsche so that he could try to coax Dean out of the vehicle and into the house.

"This is good," Dean said, twisting the shiny wood-paneled steering wheel of the car and smiling like a kid in a candy store. "Don't need to see the rest, I'll just live in the garage with Baby and you can bring me out a sandwich every now and then. You'll never even know that I was here."

"While I'm sure that Darla would appreciate the company," Castiel began smirking down at the man who's mouth had dropped open when he called the Porsche by the name he had given her. "I was kind of hoping that you would at least visit me inside every once and a while. The bedroom is supposed to be very nice."

"You haven't seen it yet?" Dean asked stepping out of the vehicle and giving it a fond pat before following Cas towards the door that led into a small mudroom that abutted the garage.

"Pictures," Castiel said waving a hand dismissively, smiling when he saw Alfie carrying a small suitcase towards the guest house at the back of the property through a window in the tiled room. "I just got back into town last night."

"Awww," Dean murmured, stepping in close and twining his fingers through Castiel's with a shy smile on his face. "And you came to see me first, you're a peach, sweetheart."

"Well, I will admit that my apology was received better than I had hoped it would be."

"What did you think I was going to do?"

"Pretty much what you did," Castiel replied tugging him into the kitchen which was equipped with the most beautiful, professional equipment he had ever seen. It was all shiny, brushed stainless steel and black marble counter tops, fully stocked and ready to feed far more people than just himself. "Yell, scream, hit me maybe. I wouldn't have blamed you, I should've told you everything from the beginning."

"Hey," Dean said, stopping the apology that Castiel was working himself into again, already having done so twice over the course of the morning.

The larger man pulled him close, casting a surreptitious glance over his shoulder before leaning into press their lips together in a kiss that was chaste and understanding. Dean pulled his lower lip into his mouth, worrying it slightly with his teeth causing Castiel to shiver from the intimate intensity of the moment because how could it already feel this good to be with someone he barely knew?

Dean pulled back, keeping their foreheads pressed together and his eyes closed as he spoke; giving Castiel a chance to marvel at how handsome the other man was again. "We ended up here, Cas. That's all that matters, we just took the scenic route a little bit."

"Okay, Dean." Castiel said, squeezing the other man's hand and leading him off to explore the rest of the house.

The kitchen led into a formal dining room that faced the back of the house, with it's view of the ocean outside of the wide bay windows, a feature that reminded Castiel of his own kitchen and breakfast nook back in L.A. and he smiled when Dean nodded approvingly because he could almost picture the other man eating cereal and drinking coffee with him as they watched the morning sunrise in his backyard.

There were two living rooms, one more comfortable and casual with overstuffed leather couches, sporting a large television and entertainment center with pretty much every gaming console imaginable that Dean just whistled softly at and the other formal one near the front of the house that had fancy oriental rugs and expensive looking furnishings that Castiel was pretty certain they would not be eating pizza on anytime soon.

The bottom floor finished off with a studious looking office, all dark oak furnishings with a large variety of books carefully placed on the built in shelves that lined the walls and a guest bathroom. The wide sweeping staircase, was the focal point of the foyer and Castiel regretted just a bit being too old to be able to slide down the polished wooden banister that curved along the side of it.

All of the bedrooms were upstairs, four smaller guest rooms situated along one side of the hallway and two bigger, master bedrooms along the side that faced the back of the house. The guest rooms were done up in tasteful, bland shades of tan and inoffensive browns all the way down to the towels in the bathrooms that joined each pair of rooms together. One master bedroom, Castiel knew Crowley would take, had probably picked out the house specifically because it was decorated with deep reds and blacks, dangerous and dark looking just like his manager liked.

The other, Castiel couldn't help but claim because Dean liked it immediately as well, plopping himself down onto the blue bedspread with a groan of satisfaction and looking around at the more understated but elegant, rustic looking furnishings that almost matched the ones that Dean had in his own apartment. Castiel imagined that this is what their house would look like if they lived together, the lighter green walls with bleached driftwood trim, making the room feel homey and lived in unlike the rest of the house that just seemed too neat and orderly.

Clutter was normal and it freaked Cas out a little bit that there was always someone coming behind him to clean up. That was part of the reason he had told Crowley not to bother hiring a housekeeper for the two months he would be living in the house while filming. If he couldn't handle going grocery shopping and doing his own laundry then he had really been living in California for too long. His mom had teased him saying he was high maintenance last time he had been in Boston when he had complained about the cold and how the bodega near his parent's brownstone didn't carry the type of feta cheese he liked.

His dad had just kept reading the same article in the paper over and over, forgetting how it started by the time he got to where it continued farther in the paper and getting frustrated by the whole endeavor before giving up. When he had heard about Dave dying it had forced Castiel to realize how bad things were actually getting with his dad and while he hadn't meant to start an argument, offering to hire some help for the aging couple had not been well-received. He and his mom had made up before he left, dropping dry, tense kisses on each other's cheeks at the airport while his dad stared blankly at the departure board, smiling confusedly and telling him to have fun at college when Castiel bundled the older man into a tight hug.

Castiel dodged Dean's hands when the other man tried to drag him into the bed, looking around the room for his suitcase so that he could finally change clothes and finding it in the huge walk-in closet. He could hear Dean wandering around the room as he quickly pulled on a new set of clothes, grabbing a comfortable black V-neck shirt along with a new pair of boxers and jeans to wear even though he was hesitant to take off the material that smelled faintly like Dean.

"Cas, dude, you have got to see this bathroom! I think it's bigger than my whole apartment."

He followed the sound of Dean's voice through the other door that led off of the bedroom and found the other man looking at all of the buttons and knobs that controlled the various settings on the shower with a line of confusion furrowing his brow. Dean had his hands on his hips and was bent slightly at the waist, but he straightened up when Castiel wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling at the back of his neck when the other man leaned back into him with a little shake of his head.

"This thing is more complicated than some of the engines I've seen, Cas. I had no idea that you were like, this famous. Maybe all of this is a bad idea."

"No, it's a good idea." Castiel replied, kissing the back of the other man's neck until he turned around in his arms and faced him, concern marring Dean's perfect features. "A very good idea, one of the best ideas I've ever had in fact. You're not getting scared out of this by a shower, Dean. We just won't use the shower, there's a tub. We'll pretend the shower doesn't exist."

"It's not just the shower," Dean said rolling his eyes and sighing, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "It's everything; the house, the car, you have a chauffeur, an agent who sounds like a super huge asshole, and a reputation to protect. I can't be worth giving all of that up for."

"If the situations were reversed," Castiel said seriously, pulling him out of the offensive bathroom that had dampened the other man's mood and leading him back towards the stairs as he spoke. "Would you think twice about doing the same thing for me?"

Dean's hesitance is what made him pause on the stairs, his heart leaping into his throat when the other man didn't immediately answer that yes, of course he would risk everything to be with him too. Did Dean feel it like he felt it? The way that everything about them just seemed to line up like two halves of a broken whole? Maybe it was all in his head and he was just romanticizing it, but soul mates were for fairytales and everything else wonderful that happened to him could be explained away by chance or fate, but this? People didn't just get this lucky for no reason.

He looked back to see Dean standing at the top of the stairs, his mouth turned down into a frown again and Cas had to go, get out of here before all of those years of acting classes betrayed him and he broke down into a sobbing, disgusting mess because even if Dean said no, that didn't change a thing for him and maybe that's why all of this was too good to be true. So he just nodded to himself and made a beeline for the kitchen as fast as he could, searching for something that he could do to hide his face and the hurt he knew was written all over it when he heard Dean call after him to stop.

"Cas, wait." Dean said, running a hand over his face as he walked into the kitchen to see Castiel with his head buried in the huge refrigerator, moving things around inside with purpose that seemed like a forced cover for something else.

He walked up to pull gently on the other man's shoulders so that he could see Cas's face.

"We can do um...burgers for dinner," Castiel muttered, not meeting his eyes and looking off towards the glass-paneled back doors that led to the sprawling back lawn and guest house. "There's a grill I think, Crowley said something about making bar-b-que for Roche...so just whatever you want."

"Yes," Dean said firmly, cupping the other man's face and turning it towards his own.

"Okay, do you know how to light a grill because I honestly have no idea. I'd probably burn my eyebrows off and then no one would want me."

"No, I mean I would do the same for you, Cas. If I had anything worth giving up, I would for you. I don't go telling every Tom, Dick, and Harry that I love them, those are big words to me and they mean something so I just want you to be completely sure."

"I'm sure, Dean." Castiel replied softly, licking his lips nervously and locking eyes with the larger man. "I mean, what's the point of having all of this if I'm alone?"

Dean nodded because he understood exactly where Cas was coming from, ever since he had met the other man and then lost him he had been feeling a nagging emptiness inside of himself, some part that was envious of every couple he saw walking down the street holding hands and god, once Meg had had E! News on in the background while he cooked, not wanting to start another season of Dr. Sexy without him and there had been a big to-do about Neil Patrick Harris and his partner taking a stand against DOMA and the whole debate surrounding it.

They weren't he most conventional couple either, doing everything backwards as his mom would say by getting engaged first and then kids and not even talking about marriage because David Burtka had said it wasn't a race to the altar, more like a marathon and Dean agreed. He had felt so desperately hormonal about the whole thing, looking up stuff about gay marriage and signing every petition he could find online in support of it, for the first time he felt like it was something he could think about and it didn't scare the shit out of him to think about forever in relation to him and Cas. The emptiness was gone with Cas.

He pressed a kiss to Castiel's mouth, moving his hands to the other man's hips and not even bothering this time to see if they were alone before he did it. Cas didn't seem too concerned about displays of affection in the large house and Dean was pretty sure paparazzi would have a hard time making it past the large iron gates that surrounded the community.

They had talked about boundaries that morning and pretty much everything they might do in public was off limits, all the way from something as innocent as putting an arm around each other's shoulders (something Dean had tried to argue with because he did that shit with Sam all of the time) to the things that would make it more obvious to anyone that was around they were more than friends like holding hands and kissing. But behind closed doors, Cas had said they were fine. Dean assumed that meant that the other man had no intention of letting him around his agent and from the one-sided conversations he heard Cas having with the man he was pretty sure he didn't want to meet Crowley anyway.

"Hey, guys." Castiel's driver came in, wearing a t-shirt and jeans with flip-flops and scrubbing a hand through his short blonde hair. Dean noticed that the younger man's eyes got wide when he saw them standing close, obviously having just been kissing before he walked in. "Whoa...um...nevermind. I didn't mean to interrupt or anything."

"No, it's okay Alfie." Castiel said, smiling around Dean's shoulder and pushing him away with a hand on his chest so that he could get the fridge back open and start pulling out vegetables that he could chop up to go on their burgers. "What did you need?"

"Well, uh...there's like no food in the guest house. I don't think they bought groceries for it since they thought it was going to be empty, I wanted to see if you two wanted to grab some dinner or something, but um...if you want to be alone..."

"I'm Dean, man." He said holding out a hand, feeling bad for the younger man who was so obviously bewildered about how he should be acting in this situation.

Sam used to get weirded out too when he saw Dean getting all cuddly with another guy and he knew that for some people it took some getting used to even if they had no problem with the idea of same-sex couples. It was like trying to pet a feral cat sometimes, people wanted to like you and trust you but since a lot of people had been force fed gay and lesbian stereotypes their whole lives they didn't know how to act around you. They were so worried about being offensive that it made interaction stilted and awkward, Dean had learned that the fastest way to get around that was to just be friendly, answer any questions and let the other person lead the conversation.

"Alfie," the younger man said sounding relieved when he shook Dean's hand enthusiastically. "Good to meet you. Um...so you guys already have planned something, right?"

"Dean is grilling burgers," Castiel said, shooting him an adorably endeared look that should not be allowed on anyone's face who isn't a teenager, but that's how Dean felt too, like a love-struck schoolboy and he was strangely fine with the long-forgotten feeling. "But you are more than welcome to join us."

"Oh god, my dad grills." Alfie said getting a far-away look for a second that he quickly shook off with a shrug and a smirk. "Mind if I help you?"

"Of course man," Dean said with a smile, searching through the cabinets until he found the pans and utensils he would need to try to replicate Bobby's burgers. "Just uh...if you'll get the patties together I'll go light the grill and Cas will get all of the fixin's carved up for us, right sweetheart?"

Cas saluted at him a little with the large knife he was using to slice the massive heirloom tomatoes he had found in the fridge and Dean wandered outside to the patio after finding a red apron that he slipped on over the green shirt he was wearing. The fact that the propane grill was less complicated than the shower in Cas's bathroom worried Dean just a little, but he tried not to think about it. Cas was in this for the long haul and so was he, so he needed to stop freaking out and let the other man be concerned about this for the both of them like he had said last night.

He could hear Alfie and Castiel laughing through the glass doors and the salty smell of the ocean so close to the house put him at ease in a way that nothing else had, expect for maybe the sound of Castiel breathing deeply in his sleep which Dean had indulged in listening to when he had woken up early and watched the rising sun play off the subtle highlights in his lover's hair. Dean shook himself out of his thoughts when he saw Alfie opening the backdoor with his hip, feeling foolish for already being so far gone on the other man.

"Okay, burgers!" Alfie said, holding up a tray of patties with little chunks of garlic and cheese pressed into the circles of meat. "Jimmy said the ones with feta are his, made some Crowley worthy threats about it so I'm pretty sure he's serious."

Dean scoffed and started carefully placing the patties on the heated grill, cocking his head when Alfie cleared his throat and pulled out one of the deck chairs that were sat around the glass-topped table on the brick patio.

"So..." Alfie began, making a vague motion with his hands like he what he wanted to say could be plucked out of the air. "You're...um...you and he are really going to try to get away with this, huh?"

"That's the plan," Dean said smiling at the younger man and moving to sit in the offered chair. "Cas said he's going to worry about the specifics."

"Is that like a nickname you have for him or something? If its personal, I get it...I was just curious." Alfie said trailing off and just looking out towards the water.

"What do you call him?" Dean asked gesturing with his chin towards the kitchen window that faced the backyard. "Mr. Collins? James? You know that's just a stage name, right?"

"Oh," Alfied replied his brow furrowing in confusion. "No, I didn't know. I guess a lot of people do that here...back home it was just nicknames so I though that's what you were doing. So is his name like Cassidy or something embarrassing like that?"

"Castiel," Dean answered. "Castiel Krushnic, don't even ask me how to spell it dude. I think it's like biblical or something at least that's what Google said when my friend Meg tried to find him for me after we first met."

"It's the name of an angel, mine is too. Samandriel." Alfie noticed the surprised look on Dean's face and just nodded, getting up and flipping the burgers with practiced movements like an old pro at manning a grill. "Yea, you see why I choose to go by something easier to say. Makes sense for him to do it too, I guess."

Dean just shook his head as Alfie moved to sit back down next to him. "All of the weird names they given kids these days, I'll never understand. So you're not from around here? Where's back home?"

"Oasis Plains, Oklahoma," Alfie replied, drawing the name of the southern town out with a twangy accent. "Middle of fucking nowhere. The biggest thing around is an Indian reservation which is kinda cool to grow up near, but dude the bugs were like radioactive meltdown massive. It's practically the desert."

Dean smirked at the younger man's description of his hometown, he probably would have focused on all of the negative things about Lawrence too when he was that age. Now he got a little homesick for the college town, missed watching games with Bobby and going to the drive-in with Sam and even all of the horrible little apartments he and his brother had lived it before finally packing up and heading West, looking for their fortune on the golden coast.

He should probably call Sammy and tell him about Cas, his brother would be happy for him, ecstatic even because he kept complaining about Bobby asking him when he was going to settle down and give him some grandkids. Sam said when hell froze over, but Dean knew that his little brother got hit on enough that eventually the right girl was going to come along and sweep the younger man right off of his gigantic feet.

"I've got everything done in there," Cas said coming out of the house with three bottles of expensive, microbrew that Dean knew the bar only carried in the VIP section. "Are you boys almost done out here?"

He watched as the other man handed one to Alfie before settling down in the chair closest to his own and holding one out towards him with a teasing smile on his face. Dean reached for it only to have it pulled back farther and farther until he was face to face with Cas's pursed, expectant lips and he had no other choice but to kiss the other man as he snatched the beer out of his hand with a triumphant smirk.

"Asshole," Dean murmured against the other man's lips before kissing him again and sitting back down in his chair.

"You love it," Castiel replied.

Alfie just rolled his eyes and got up to take the burgers off of the grill, "I get the feeling I should've stayed at the hotel."

"Don't worry," Castiel said taking a drink out of the bottle in his hand and gesturing towards the guest house. "Once Crowley gets here, we'll be making ourselves much more discreet on the kissing front."

An awkward silence fell over the trio at the mention of the man who was going to be the biggest obstacle to Dean and Castiel's relationship, but Alfie broke it when he started talking about wanting to learn surfing and being afraid of sharks. This problem Dean could handle, offering to teach the younger man the little he had picked up about the activity since moving to California, the rest he was going to let Cas worry about, at least for now.

* * *

Author Note: Holla guys n' gals! I'm gonna try to update this fic once a week, just whatever day I happen to finish a chapter. Yayish! Regularity and all of that jazz, I'm striving to be the Activia of the fan-fiction world.


	7. Chapter 7

It turned out that Cas didn't know how to cook. Dean wasn't a rocket scientist or anything, hell he had only graduated high school because Bobby refused to let him drop out and help out at the garage in an effort to not feel like such a burden on the other man, but after the third time that the actor had set off the fire alarm it had become pretty obvious that Cas and Meg were two peas in a pod when it came to cooking.

The first time had been during their first night at the actor's house when Dean had stayed over and Cas had given him a running commentary of his episodes in _Dr. Sexy M.D., _telling him about the little quirks of all of the regular cast members and swearing up and down that he had really stolen a pair of Dr. Sexy's cowboy boots out of the props department, promising that he would show Dean when he came to visit him at his house in Los Angeles. It was the 'when' that had started the make-out session on the plush leather sofa that had resulted in Castiel burning the brownies he had been baking because they were both too distracted to remember to take them out. Dean had chalked that first time up as an accident and they had laughed it off before going back to kissing on the couch until they fell asleep together wrapped up in each other in the living room.

The second time was a couple of days later, days that had been agonizing because Dean couldn't miss anymore work if he wanted to save up that last little bit of money he needed for Bobby's plane ticket so he wasn't able to see Cas until Tuesday. He had just appeared sitting at one of the booths in the VIP area where Dean was working and Jess had taken a break to go return a missed call she had from her mom in Palo Alto. It had taken everything he had not to jump on Cas right there when the other man smiled at his shocked expression, looking amazing in a blue and white striped button down that was open at the collar and had rolled up sleeves.

The next morning, after Dean had spent the night showing just how very much he appreciated everything the color blue did for Cas, Dean had woken up to the other man shaking him awake with the most apologetic expression on his face as the fire alarm in the kitchen went off tinnily in the other room. The actor had been trying to make him breakfast and the blackened hockey pucks that Dean scraped out of his favorite frying pan might have once had aspirations of being pancakes, but after Cas had gotten done with them they were little more than paperweights.

His suspicions had started then, but Dean had kept them to himself because so far Cas was amazing at everything he did from backrubs to blowjobs to board games. Dean had yet to find one thing that he didn't think was incredible about the other man, so he wrote off the second time as Cas not being familiar with how his stove worked.

The third time was when Castiel tried to make some microwave popcorn at Meg's apartment. The other man had managed to find a copy of one of Meg's favorite movies, _The Legend of Billie Jean_, on DVD and apparently this was a really big deal because his friend had insisted that they come over "right the fuck now" to watch it with her and understand the magic of the 80s. Dean had only agreed because Cas had promised a blonde Christian Slater co-star before the actor had gotten all late-90s crazy. He had always personally thought that the older actor was more of a badass in _Heathers_ than anything else, but Dean was going to be damned if he let Meg know how much he loved that movie.

Burning popcorn was the final tip-off though, because Cas had been right there watching it, seeming uber-concerned and anxious when Dean left him alone in the kitchen to go to the bathroom before they started the movie. When that alarm had gone off while he was washing his hands he had just sighed and smiled before shaking his head and going out to help the other man air out the apartment while Meg called in an order for Chinese food instead. The third time couldn't be explained away and Dean had just kissed Cas when he tried to stammer out an apology because it was just so unbelievably adorable.

So Cas couldn't cook and Dean found a perverse silver-lining in the whole thing because it meant that his partner wasn't perfect and he could finally believe the other man when he said that it didn't matter that Dean wasn't famous or rich. And also Dean liked to cook, had actually gotten fairly good at it while living with Bobby because it was all that the older man would let him do. His guardian had refused to not pay him for the work he did at the garage while he was in high school, stating that Dean needed money so that he could have a life and Sam was already doing all of the other chores for his allowance.

Dean had felt so much guilt for taking even more from Bobby after everything the older man had done for him and Sam that he had started cooking, starting out with learning how to make Bobby's favorite meals through recipes off of the internet and ripped out pages from the _Good Housekeeping's _that his best friend Benny's mom read. When he had taken home-ec his junior year, Dean had thought that he would never hear the end of it from some of the guys he played sports with and it would just remind everyone that he was gay and it would start all of the homophobia that he had dealt with in junior high right back up again. But they had thought he was a genius and four other guys from the baseball team had transferred into the class once they realized how many cheerleaders Dean got to hang out with everyday.

So the week had passed in a blur of him and Cas spending as much time together as possible with Dean doing all of the cooking anytime he wasn't working and Castiel wasn't running around being handsome for photographers all over San Francisco as he got fitted for his wardrobe for the movie and rushing off to the places that Crowley barked at him to go to over the phone so that he could be seen with the right people and the hype for the movie could continue to build before they even started filming.

He and Cas had watched _Strangers on a Train_ together the night before, cuddled up in his bed while it played on his laptop and Dean had never seen it, but he liked it and picturing Cas as sweet, oblivious Guy was just so easy that it seemed like Hitchcock had written the role specifically for the other man; if Cas was older he could've been the original Guy and everyone would've been appalled that the remake was happening in the first place. But apparently Balthazar Roche was this amazing, revolutionary filmmaker who Dean had never heard of and the only question that he had seen floating around the internet was about whether or not he was going to do a cameo like Hitchcock used to do in his films.

There was a small contingent of people that were disgusted that Roche had chosen Naomi Tapping to play the role of the main antagonist, a role that had previously been male and now all of a sudden was filled by a woman. Feminists everywhere were lauding him for defying gender roles, but then again Cas had told him that a lot of people didn't know that it had been changed into a love story yet and when it came out suspense movie purists were probably going to boycott the film for that reason alone. It was something that he knew the other man was genuinely worried about and that's why Cas was freaking out about cooking now that he was having dinner with Roche while he was at work.

It was slow for a Saturday, much slower than Dean was used to and Meg was just as bored as he was so they were sitting around with Jo at the main bar, playing a heated round robin tournament of Words With Friends that Ash was currently dominating even though he was trapped in the VIP bar, still spinning tracks for the few people that were lingering in the space. He had gotten knocked out by the DJ in the last round when Ash had used the word 'overnumerousness' and Dean had made Jo look it up to make sure it was a real word before conceding defeat via text to the other man. Meg was playing him now and they were pooling their collective knowledge to try to stump Ash who really should be building atomic bombs somewhere and not watching overweight movie producers hit on aging starlets in a club in San Francisco.

Dean had been texting Castiel all night, complaining about how slow they were and walking the other man through how to make mushroom risotto to go with the rack of lamb that he had put into the oven at Cas's house before he left for work. He was pretty sure even Cas couldn't mess it up since he had set every timer in the kitchen and alarm on the other man's phone in order to remind him to take it out before Roche got there for dinner. He just fucking hoped that the director appreciated all of the effort that Cas was going to in order to thank him for offering him the role in such a big movie in the first place.

It was going to be the first time since Cas had surprised him by showing up at the bar that they weren't going to spend the night together, alternating between his apartment and the other man's house. Dean was not exactly thrilled to be sleeping alone and yea, the sex was fucking amazing, but it was more than that. He had already gotten used to having Cas there next to him, falling into an easy comfortable routine together that he couldn't believe he hadn't always had with the other man.

Dean didn't even want to imagine what it was going to be like when they had to go even deeper into hiding to spend time together; when Crowley showed up on Monday it was going to be torture. So far they had been able to avoid paparazzi, Alfie had some uncanny way of knowing where they might be lurking and the kid had driving skills that would put Paul Walker to shame, but Dean usually took a separate car just to be on the safe side anyway. He hadn't managed to talk Cas into letting him drive Darla yet, but he was pretty sure the other man was close to breaking on that; Dean just needed one sunny day and a picnic basket full of hamburgers and that Porsche was totally his.

They hadn't gone out in public together yet and it didn't even matter to Dean because he was going to enjoy their pseudo-domesticity for as long as he could, learn as much about Cas as possible to that he had all of the other man's little quirks to hold onto when the time came for them to be apart. He had told Sam about Castiel, at least the abridged version; leaving out what Cas did for a living when his brother asked because it was just too weird of a situation and he was pretty sure that Sam would bring up all of the little nagging details about how this was probably going to blow up in his face and for now Dean just wanted to ignore it because Cas just made him so fucking happy.

**[April 6, 2013 8:12PM] Cas:** Alfie says this is the best rice he's ever had. You're amazing.

"It's more than just rice, sweetheart." Dean murmured to himself, ignoring the questioning look Jo gave him

Dean had fretted at first about what he was supposed to tell people when Jo and Anna continued to try to set him up with every gay guy they knew in the bay area and had even made the meek suggestion to Cas that he should keep up the charade for everyone at the bar because Meg and for some reason Jess were the only two people who knew that he was with the actor and he trusted that they could keep their mouths shut.

It wasn't like he wanted an open relationship or anything, but the other man had still gotten all stony and silent before he had shaken his head briskly and pinned Dean against the edge of the sink in Cas's bathroom where they had been brushing their teeth together before bed. His kisses had been hard and urgent and desperate until he had tuned Dean around with a possessive growl and bent him over the cream colored marble countertop next to the sink and prepped him with purposeful movements using the lube that Cas seemed to have stashed everywhere around the house.

He didn't think that sex with Cas could get any hotter, but when the actor had pushed into him fast and rough, gripping on to his hips and leaving fingertip shaped bruises on top of the ones that hadn't completely faded from their last impromptu encounter, Dean could do nothing but moan and mutter apologizes to the other man; promising that he didn't want anyone besides Cas.

It was the look of fierce need and vulnerability on the other man's face as he slammed into him that had Dean seeing stars, unable to look away from the fiery look in the other man's eyes as he came saying he loved the actor; only being aware of the soft kisses that Cas had placed on his naked back before he had been briskly pulled into the complicated shower and dragged off to bed, content in the arms of the only man he could imagine himself wanting anymore.

So for now, he just told the two girls that he wasn't looking for a relationship and he didn't even feel that guilty for lying because he wasn't really. Dean had already found a relationship and he couldn't wait to see the look on Bobby's face when he finally told his former guardian that he was ready to settle down; he knew the older man had thought that it would never happen and more than a few of his grey hairs could be attributed to his worrying about Dean's promiscuousness. He had told Bobby on numerous occasions that he had never been anything but careful and it's not like he could get knocked up or anything regardless Dean just knew that the older man would be relieved to hear that his wild days were over.

"That douchebag has got to be cheating," Meg complained across the bar from him, where he had was leaning as he thought of a reply to send to Cas. She tilted the screen of her phone towards him and he raised his eyebrows at the length of the words that Ash was putting together, the DJ had some serious scrabble skills. "Ask Clarence for some help, he probably read Shakespeare and all that shit so he's gotta have some awesome Elizabethan words stored away in that sexy noggin of his."

"Who has a sexy noggin?" Jo asked leaning over the bar to draw a beer out of the tap for one of the few patrons she was waiting on.

"Your mom," Dean snapped, smirking when Jo just rolled her eyes and told him she would pass along the compliment to Ellen next time they talked before walking away to deliver the beer she had just poured.

"Seriously though," Meg said lowly, leaning towards him and trying to peek at his phone that he was holding loosely in his hand. "How is your man's dinner thingy going? He burn his fancy house down yet? I haven't even gotten a chance to see it."

"Well, the guy is already running late." Dean said ignoring her comments about cooking related fires because she really wasn't in a place where she could say anything. "But I think he managed to pull it off, he is so nervous Meg. About all of it and nothing I say helps because he apparently idolizes the guy for some movie he made a couple of years ago and now he feels like indebted to the guy and stuff for giving him a role in his movie."

"You don't think it was a...um...casting couch situation or anything, do you?" Meg asked, her brow furrowing with concern when she saw the way Dean's knuckles went white from where his grip had tightened on his phone. "I mean that stuff happens, it does, Dean. You hear rumors of how people that no one has ever heard of get these amazing roles and then there's a big scandal about them sleeping with a producer or something."

"No," Dean choked out, shaking his head because Castiel was better than that.

Even his tiny part on freaking _Dr. Sexy M.D. _had shown that the other man had real talent and Dean didn't know why it had taken this long for someone to finally see it. He figured it was for exactly that reason, his partner had too much respect for himself to whore himself out for a role and it's not like he hadn't done anything since moving to California, Dean figured he was just choosy when it came to projects, waiting on something that he thought would suit him, right?

"Well you're a better person than I am," Meg said with a shrug. "I would be freaking out, Roche is like super hot and not really known for being picky when it comes to partners. The guy is all over the internet with models and actors draped all over him at red carpets and there is a rumor that his last movie ended in an orgy or something. But you know those gossip sites; they exaggerate the hell out of anything."

"Yea," Dean said weakly, glancing down at his phone when it vibrated in his hand.

**[April 6, 2013 8:32PM] Cas**: FINALLY! He's here, fashionably late my ass. You are the only good thing about California.

Dean smiled, huffing out a half-hearted chuckle because now that Meg had put the idea of Cas and Balthazar Roche together in his head and he was going to be freaking out all night, but it's not like he could do anything about it so he just settled for checking one last time that Cas hadn't messed up the food

**[April 6, 2013 8:35PM] Cas:** Alfie is getting the door so I can finish up. Lamb is out, rice is done, and I saw that pie in the fridge. I don't deserve you. I will save you some and bring it over when you get off work.

They hadn't talked about spending the night together and Dean had just figured that Cas would probably offer Roche one of the guest bedrooms in the house because he had already mentioned doing so since they were going to be going to the same places for work together everyday anyway. But he wasn't going to stop Cas if he wanted to come over and the small sting of jealousy he felt about his partner having dinner with the director was soothed by the offer. Dean had just started a reply to Cas saying that he would leave the door unlocked for him when he got home when his phone started going off in his hand again, playing the ringtone he had set for Alfie's number that he had programmed when he and the younger man started seriously talking surfboards and shark repellant.

"Alfred!" Dean answered, waving for Jo to come back behind the bar so that he could go in the back and take the call. Meg didn't say anything to him about answering his phone on the floor because she was too engrossed in her game with Ash to care. "Thanks for making sure Cas didn't ruin the dinner I slaved all day over. He told me Balthazar is there, the guy didn't like...dress up or anything did he?"

He was fishing and he knew it, but anything Alfie could say that was bad about Roche would probably soothe the irrational fears he was having about Castiel falling into bed with the charming Englishman. Dean just needed to hear that the director wasn't treating this like a date because if he was well, then he wasn't sure he could stop himself from driving over to Cas's house and kicking his smarmy ass right into the ocean before fucking his actor up against the nearest wall so that he could remind Cas just exactly who he belonged to.

"Mom, yea." Alfie blurted, his voice sounding high-pitched and nervous. "Just y'know, calling you like I said I would. I know that you worry."

"Dude, just because I cook for you it does not mean I'm your mom," Dean said flatly.

"Yea, you're cooking is the best mom." Alfie continued seemingly like he hadn't heard him. "But I can't talk long, I'm having dinner with my boss...Yea, mom Jimmy and Mr. Crowley invited the director he's working with to dinner."

"Duh," Dean said running an agitated hand through his hair and sighing heavily. "What's going on, man? Why are you being so weird?"

"No, Mr. Crowley is here too. He and Mr. Roche got here together so its a good thing Jimmy cooked enough food."

"Crowley is there?" Dean asked, the realization of why exactly Alfie was freaking out hitting him right in the gut.

The agent was early, two days early and there was no way that Cas had managed to erase all traces of the couple of nights Dean had spent there. He knew that he had left some clothes there, scattered across the floor of Castiel's bedroom and a couple of car and surfing magazines that he had bought when he had gone out to pick up the stuff he needed to cook dinner earlier. Those he had left on the coffee table in the less-formal living room and maybe Alfie could pass those off as his own, but the clothes were way too big to pass as the younger boy's. He should've picked them up before he left, but Dean had been running late and snagging one of Castiel's button downs to wear had just been easier and god, he knew that they had been tempting fate over the last couple of days, but this was just so fucking unfair.

"Yea, mom. He made rack of lamb...nope no mint jelly. I know, it's not going to be anywhere near as good as yours."

"Fuck you, mint jelly is gross." Dean snapped, tugging on the bottom of the denim button down he had borrowed because the usually chilly backroom suddenly felt a million degrees. "Listen, um...can I talk to Cas?"

"No mom, Jimmy's busy right now. Y'know entertaining and stuff, but I'll let him know you said hi."

"Shit, Alfie listen. You need to make sure that nothing of mine is out for Crowley to see. I have some clothes in Cas's room and I think that I might have left a razor there, a toothbrush. Just go and make sure that it looks like he has been in that room by himself."

"I know mom, I will." Alfie continued and Dean could dimly hear the sound of other voices in the background, two clipped accents with Castiel's low baritone peppered in. "But I have to go now."

"Alright, dude. Just tell Cas...shit..." Dean wasn't going to get the driver to tell his partner that he loved him and to not freak out, but he wanted to. He wanted Cas to know that he wasn't alone in all of this hiding bullshit, because now he had Dean, but he wasn't going to ask Alfie to pass on that little emotional message. "Fuck...tell him to text me if he gets a chance."

"Bye mom," Alfie said sounding slightly apologetic.

"Bye, Alf." Dean replied tightly. "And man, thanks for the heads up."

"Of course, dude." Alfie whispered before saying a final goodbye to his mother who Dean knew he did actually talk to most nights around dinnertime; the young driver was probably going to be his and Cas's best ally in keeping their relationship a secret.

He thought about texting Cas, but he knew that it would only stress the other man out more because he would be wanting to reply, but couldn't while Crowley was there. So Dean swung a fist at nothing instead, punching at the air because fuck, this being a secret thing was already a real pain in the ass.

* * *

Castiel's face hurt from smiling and his teeth hurt from gritting them together so that he wouldn't pull Crowley to the side and yell at him for showing up announced. Because really, if he did it would tip his agent off to the fact that he hadn't wanted him around for a specific reason and from there it would really take the least amount of snooping ever for Crowley to figure out that he'd had someone over to the house and that that someone was Dean.

The Scotsman had already been none too pleased to find out that Castiel was letting Alfie stay in the guest house, citing the fact that he had gotten the younger man a hotel room specifically so that he wouldn't bother Cas. He had his own suspicions that Crowley had done it in an effort to keep him isolated and focused on the filming that was coming up, because if he had to be honest with himself Alfie looked like the kind of person he would been falling all over in college and Crowley knew his type, that Southern gentleman thing was just what did it for him and it had been part of the reason why he had jumped at being on that stupid doctor drama in the first place. The actor who played Dr. Sexy had turned out to be painfully homophobic though, Castiel still hadn't found it in his heart to break that news to Dean yet.

Dinner had been less awkward and strained than he had thought it would be though, even with Alfie there underdressed and endearingly goofy in his faded Sooners t-shirt and the ripped jeans that he had washed the town car in earlier in the day. Initially he got a lot of compliments for the food from Balthazar, which just made his heart clench when he thought of Dean and how things were going to change now that Crowley was here, but then his agent had piped up saying that Castiel couldn't even make toast properly and he had laughed it off, claiming that he had catered the meal because it was what he knew Crowley would have expected him to do.

They made it all the way through dinner and a tour of the house before they had their first slip up and honestly Castiel had been surprised that it hadn't happened sooner. It happened in the garage and if he didn't love her so much he would've had Darla melted down for scrap for betraying him so heinously. Dean had been tinkering with the Porsche off and on all week, admiring the interior and the overall craftsmanship of the vehicle before delving into the engine and tuning it up, insisting that if Castiel was going to keep paying for things all the time then he could at least give the car an oil change.

He hadn't even realized that he had been doing that, paying for everything for Dean even though they rarely left the confines of either his rented house or the other man's apartment. But Castiel had, paying for take-out anytime they ordered it and having Alfie put gas into the Impala when Dean complained about having to drive the big black car the distance between their homes all of the time. He had almost offered Dean the use of Darla, something he never ever did because she was his baby and he only trusted a few mechanics in Los Angeles to even touch her, but the car was too conspicuous, too recognizable and flashy for him to let the other man be seen driving it around while the paparazzi were still trailing after him everywhere.

So she had remained in the garage, not gathering dust because when Dean wasn't busy polishing her and gazing contentedly at how Darla looked parked next to the Impala, then Alfie was giving all of the cars that were in the garage a thorough wash and wax in an effort to stay busy himself. Castiel was pretty sure the younger man was going stir crazy being cooped up with just him and Dean who had been fairly amorous over the last week, taking the opportunity to kiss and touch each other as much as possible before Crowley showed up and their time together was severely lessened. Castiel made a mental note to offer Alfie a couple of days off once he was deep into filming and didn't require the younger man hanging around in case he needed a ride somewhere.

Dean usually kept the garage very neat, it was pretty much the only place he actually picked up after himself and Castiel had been grateful that Crowley and Balthazar had been too busy making weird, cryptic inside jokes with each other to notice that Alfie had slipped off to stash away the few belongings that Dean had left scattered around the large house. But this one time, he hadn't and Castiel figured it was probably because he had enjoyed the sight of the other man being sweaty and greasy from working on cars too much, pulling him into the shower before Dean had to dash off to work late because Cas couldn't control himself around his partner.

The tools were sitting on the ground in between the town car and Darla and it was Balthazar who tripped over them, too busy inspecting the cream leather interior of the Porsche to notice them where they were pushed haphazardly half-way under the vehicle.

"And you do all of the maintenance yourself," Balthazar marveled, adjusting his deep V-neck shirt where it had gotten hiked up when Crowley had caught the other man before he fell. "You're just a regular Renaissance Man, James."

"Don't be daft," Crowley said giving his client a suspicious look. "James doesn't know the first thing about automobiles. He would probably just end up making the car explode if he tried to change the windshield wipers."

"That's me," Castiel admitted, biting his lip and wishing that Alfie hadn't ducked off to straighten up the guest house before Crowley decided to include that in the tour as well. "I'm hopeless when it comes to mechanics. No, this was Alfie's doing. Kid really knows a lot about cars and he offered to give the Porsche a tune-up."

Crowley hummed to himself and just watched as the director went to head back into the house, sashaying in a way that Castiel was pretty sure wasn't meant for himself since the two Brits had been dancing around each other all night. The reason for his agent's early arrival was fairly clear now and even though Cas wasn't sure what Crowley's type actually was, having never seen the other man show any interest in anything besides his car and work and making assistants cry, he knew that his friend found the director's sharp-tongued wit amusing and maybe it would prove to be the distraction he needed in order to keep Crowley off of his and Dean's trail.

Balthazar Roche was everything the gossip magazines made him out to be, charming and attractive and a hedonist if Castiel had never met one. A small part of his mind nagged that the director might end up hurting his friend if he let the flirting and the innuendos run their natural course, but he pushed it aside because Crowley was a big boy who could take care of himself and he had known the agent long enough that once he decided he wanted something then it was going to take an act of god to stop him from getting it. And maybe they would be good for each other, soften the sharp edges that both men were notorious for having and give Castiel and Alfie and everyone else a break for a while.

"Funny that Alfie didn't put down that he knew how to work on vintage cars on his resume," Crowley commented blandly, putting a guiding hand on Castiel's back between his shoulder blades as he led them back into the kitchen. "The Aston's been handling weird, maybe I should get him to take a look at it."

"Maybe you should," Castiel replied, tamping down the panic that had been looming over him all night and wishing for the millionth time that he could call Dean and hear his voice because it would calm him down.

His hands had been itching all night with the urge to pull out his phone and closet himself away somewhere so that he could have his freak out in private with Dean's gruff soothing voice talking him through it in that same no-nonsense way he had done when he had been trying to fight the smile off of his face before he had thrown the frying pan Castiel had ruined into the trash and just poured bowls of cereal for the both of them for breakfast instead. They should have talked about this, made plans about what they would do and how they would see each other once Crowley showed up because now it felt like he would never be able to see Dean again and that panic was worse than any stage-fright he had ever gotten in his life.

"Well the house is simply stunning, Crowley." Balthazar said from where he was standing leaned up against one of the counters with a glass of the wine that they had been drinking with dinner in his hand. "I hope you appreciate everything this man does for you, James. Most actors would kill for an agent like him."

"Shameless flattery will get you everywhere, Roche," Crowley replied as coyly as a man in an Armani suit could.

It took everything Castiel had to not curse his old friend up and down for being a big fucking hypocrite, but instead he bit his tongue until it hurt because he knew that the country wouldn't give two fucks if another Hollywood talent agent turned out to be gay and Balthazar had a reputation for being undiscriminating when it came to his partners' sex. Plus they were foreign so the Midwest housewives who followed celebrity gossip could rest easy since they weren't contaminating their good little American sons when they left home to be actors only to get turned into porn stars that knew their way around a dick much better than their mother's ever could. Castiel knew that's where a lot of unlucky, young actors ended up and he wrote off his own avoidance of that profession to just more dumb luck bestowed upon him for probably having been a dung beetle in a past life.

"Well, like I said Balthazar," Castiel said quickly, clearing his throat and hoping that it would be enough to break up the eye-fucking his agent was currently giving the other man. Is that how he and Dean looked at each other? No wonder Alfie and Meg were always so uncomfortable when they were just silently staring at each other. "The house is massive so if you would like to stay you can, I would be the only actor in history to get to live with my director while we're filming. How much closer to the project could I get?"

"Nonsense," the director replied, smiling roguishly at Cas and winking to Crowley before he strolled closer to stand right in front of him. "I hear that Tim Burton and Johnny Depp have a very unique working relationship too, Helena is very understanding of the whole thing."

Castiel tensed because the other man was standing too close and that sounded too much like a proposition and what the actual fuck was going on here? He figured it out when Crowley barked out a laugh, clapping a hand over his mouth when Balthazar complained that he had ruined the whole thing and hadn't they already talked about this on the way over. The agent crossed the room to lean into Roche, wrapping a hand around his waist and tugging him up against his side with something that sounded like a murmured apology, but got lost when Balthazar leaned down to kiss him.

"You guys are real funny," Castiel muttered, shouldering past the two men so that he could go to his room and hide in his bathtub and call Dean so that he could try to get over how totally fucking fucked up this all was.

"James we were joking!" Crowley called after him, shaking Balthazar off long enough that he could catch his client on the stairs as he made his way to his room. "Jimmy, listen. I know you're upset about all of this, but I didn't mean for it to happen. It just did."

"Well, what about when something just happens for me, Crow?!" Cas spat out, warning lights going off in his head because if he let his emotions get the best of him now then he would probably say something that would tip the other man off about Dean and that was bad. "You bit my head off about those pictures and now I'm just supposed to be fine with you fucking my boss. He could ruin me. If things go bad with you two everything will be over before it starts. Have you thought about that?"

Crowley stared at him dumbfounded, before dropping his gaze to his hands in the most defeated gesture that Castiel had ever seen the overly confident man make, shaking his head slightly. He heard the other man sigh heavily before moving past him to continue up the stairs to the dark red and black master bedroom that he had already deposited his bags in when he had first arrived, looking younger and happier with Balthazar in tow than Cas had seen the man look during their entire time together.

"He knew you would be upset," Balthazar's voice floated up from the foyer, causing Castiel to whip his head around from where he had been watching his agent's departure.

The Brit walked up the stairs slowly, pausing below Castiel with a wry smirk on his face as he reached out a hand to catch the collar of one of Dean's Henleys that he had worn in an effort to feel like the other man was there with him, carrying the weight of how difficult this all was even though they were apart. Balthazar's finger caught the soft material and pulled it to the side until the fading hickey that Dean had left on him was revealed, more of a sickly greenish-yellow color now that it had been over a week since the other man had left the mark on him.

"But I'm willing to wager fair money, that he would be upset too if he knew about this." Balthazar said raising a knowing eyebrow at him before tapping the spot in a business like way. "It's nothing make up can't cover up, just have your beau be more careful in the future and James, do try to cut Fergus some slack. He has your best interests at heart, I promise."

"And I should believe you why?" Castiel asked clearing his throat and trying not stammer out the half-baked excuses that he had been practicing in case something like this happened; Alfie had told him that for an actor, he was a pretty shit liar.

"Because I have his best interests at heart despite what you might have heard about me," Balthazar replied earnestly. "I'm not exactly the type of fellow to walk away from what I have with Fergus. Frankly, I'm mad for not already having married him just for the fact that he can put up with my temper tantrums, but I don't see any reason why we need to raise his blood pressure any higher than it already is. So if you can go easy on him about what a horse's ass he is being to you then I can look the other way when you go see the person you've been itching to see all evening. Deal?"

"You've been spending too much time with him if you're already making deals," Castiel muttered, feeling his heart race because if Balthazar could keep Crowley distracted while also slowly bringing him around to the idea of Castiel being allowed to have a relationship then this movie could be the thing that changed his life in more ways than one. "You aren't going to tell him?"

"It's the furthest thing from my mind," Balthazar said readily, heading up the stairs with a pointed look towards the bedroom Crowley had disappeared into. "Now if you'll excuse me, someone's feelings have been hurt and I know just the best way to make him feel better."

Castiel didn't want to stick around to hear Crowley having sex, honestly he never would've thought that a situation where something like that might happen would arise in the first place, but his life had never been predictable so why should it start now. He raced down to the garage, not even bothering to ask Alfie to be the one who drove him over to Dean's apartment because the keys to the town car were right there and Cas barely remembered to grab what was left of the lemon meringue pie that the other man had made before he was tearing out of his gated to community towards the Marina District. Dean wasn't even going to be home yet, but he had more skills on his headshots than just being able to speak Russian and period dance; lock picking just happened to be one of them.

* * *

Author Note: hi babies! This is a big mad props shout out to Aliniah for being the only person to guess what movie Cas was going to be in. I figured a modern day remake of Strangers on a Train wouldn't be too far-fetched since it seems like they'll remake anything these days (Footloose? C'mon Bacon isn't even dead yet, rude.) Anyway, thanks for all the reads and all of the feels you give me when I read reviews, I love them.


	8. Chapter 8

"Alright, Cas." Dean sighed into the phone, climbing the stairs to his apartment slowly in an effort to make his conversation with the other man last. "No, its fine. I understand that you can't sneak out, its not like you're sixteen anymore."

Cas wasn't coming over, just like he had figured he wouldn't now that Crowley was in town probably watching the actor like a hawk for any sign of misbehavior. It didn't mean that he wasn't sore about it, because he was. He had wanted to spend as much with Castiel as possible before Monday when the shit hit the proverbial fan and being separated by the other man's overbearing nanny would stink to high heaven.

But he didn't want to make Cas feel guilty about it so he had waited until the other man texted him first before calling as soon as he got off work, wanting to hear the actor's voice before he collapsed into his big, empty bed all by himself for the first time in almost a week. Dean didn't know how well he was actually going to be able to sleep, but it had less to do with wearing himself out with Cas like had happened almost every night since they had decided to do this whole crazy, shitty hiding thing and more to do with the fact that he had gotten used to having another body that he could spoon up against throughout the night.

"_I'm sorry, Dean." _Castiel replied mournfully as Dean trudged up the last flight of stairs to his apartment, counting each step that led him farther and farther away from the man on the other end of the line. _"If there was any way that I could be there, you know I would be. Entertaining Roche all evening has just worn me out though."_

"I get it, sweetheart." He murmured in reply, clenching his fists at the mention of the director who Meg had been pulling up pictures of on her phone all night, walking red carpets with amorous consorts of either sex.

Dean knew that she had done it in an effort to stifle the irrational jealousy he was feeling towards the Englishman for getting to spend time with Cas when he couldn't, but it had just made it worse; made picturing his actor in bed with the other man too easy for it to not make him see red just a little bit. He paused outside the door of his apartment, leaning his head on the door jam as he fumbled for the key that would unlock the door to the stark emptiness that awaited him on the other side.

"When will I get to see you again?" Dean asked, shutting his eyes against the answer because he knew that he probably wouldn't like it.

"_As soon as I can manage it,"_ Castiel said sounding just as torn up as he did and that shouldn't help, knowing that the other man was just as miserable as he was, but it did. _"But I have to go Dean, I think someone is knocking on my door."_

Dean smirked at the image of Cas hiding in the massive, sunken tub that was in his ensuite bathroom talking to him on the phone nervously and chewing on his lip in that way that he had come to find was one of his favorite quirks about the other man. The lip chewing and the head tilting just did him in like a punch to the gut every single time.

"Okay, Cas." Dean said sticking his key in the lock and turning, pushing the door open to reveal the darkened interior of his apartment with a resigned sigh. "Love you."

"I love you too, Dean."

He hung up the phone, looking down at the picture of the other man that he had set for when Castiel called, it was right after he burned those fucking pancakes and had a smear of batter on his face that Meg said did not look like something that innocent, but Dean knew what it was so he didn't really give a fuck if people thought he had pornographic pictures of the other man on his phone. It was his fucking phone after all. His picture for Meg was one of her dressed up as Princess Leia for Halloween, drunk as hell and yelling at Sam who had dressed up as a poor excuse for Chewbacca to Dean's Han Solo when they visited him in Stanford for the holiday.

Dean flicked on the light for his living room, smirking at the book of John Waters screenplays that Cas had bought for him on the coffee table when he had let it slip to the other man that he had never seen _Hairspray_. There was also one of Castiel's shirts tossed haphazardly over the back of his couch, left there the last time they had been too busy undressing each other to bother with silly little things like being neat or fixing the window blinds so the sunlight wouldn't wake grumpy Cas up first thing in the morning. The sight of that just made his heart twist and he tossed his keys onto the table by the door with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

He toed off his boots, leaning onto the breakfast nook heavily before glancing at the clock on his oven which showed that it was probably way too late to be drinking and he should probably just try to go to sleep instead. But Dean had never been one for taking things like time and future hangovers into account when he was feeling down, so he grabbed a beer instead; twisting off the cap and taking a long pull of the beverage before he headed towards his bedroom the fingers of his free hand carefully fumbling with the buttons on his borrowed shirt as he went because all he wanted to do was collapse face down into the pillow that smelled the most like Cas and hope that he didn't have dreams about his partner fucking some smarmy, entitled English guy.

What he hadn't been expecting was seeing Cas sitting on his bed, feet dangling off the edge and leaned back on his elbows like the most beautiful jungle cat in existence, sporting nothing but an amused smirk, his glasses, and a pair of pink satin panties. Dean's pink satin panties to be exact. The pair that he kept hidden under everything else in the top drawer of his dresser, hidden even better than his dildo and his anal beads that he wasn't shy about anyone finding because before Cas no one had ever ventured into his nightstand next to his bed but him.

If he hadn't just swallowed the beer that had been in his mouth, Dean was pretty sure he either would have choked or done the most hilariously accurate spit-take that anyone had ever seen. But as it was his mouth just fell open instead, tightening his grip on the bottle in his hand unconsciously which was probably for the best since he didn't think that cleaning up a shattered glass bottle was going to be on the top of his priorities list right now.

"Guess what I found?" Castiel asked teasingly, swinging his feet slightly as Dean raked his eyes over the other man, trying to decide if this was hot or an invasion of privacy or just really fucking hot.

"A way through locked doors?" Dean asked, surprised that his brain was functioning still when it felt like all of the blood in his body was trying to decide if it wanted to race to his face for the hardest blush of his life or to his dick because he was already leaning more towards hot than embarrassed about the other man having discovered pretty much his one and only weird kink.

Castiel pouted slightly on the bed, fluttering his eyelashes at Dean in a way that was so incongruous with the man he had gotten used to fucking him fast and hard into anything he could press Dean up against over the last week. The other man had never bottomed for him and it didn't really bother Dean very much because Cas was very good at the things that they were already doing, but seeing his actor stretched out and wanton looking in his panties, the ones that Dean only wore when the dry spells got really long and simple fantasies were just not cutting it anymore, it made that primal part of him that liked to claim and own and mark Cas growl possessively from one corner of his mind.

"Y'know I like lace more myself," Castiel said tauntingly, slipping a finger under the snug fitting fabric and popping the waistband that was riding low on his hips against his smooth, muscled skin. "But satin is nice too."

Dean groaned softly, feeling like his brain was short circuiting and willing himself to move towards Cas so that he could kiss the other man senseless because it wasn't even his birthday and this was still the best surprise he had ever gotten. He was debating silently to himself about whether that was because he was getting to see Cas like this when no one else did or just because he was seeing the other man at all when he hadn't been expecting it when the actor got off the bed and moved towards him, taking the beer bottle out of his hand and setting it carefully on the dresser before he started kissing Dean's neck, sucking on all of the spots that made his cock twitch and brought him out of his shocked stupor.

He let his eyes roam down the other man, skimming his hands over the muscles that moved under the skin of Castiel's shoulders and back, bringing them down to his hips so that he could push the other man off of him and fully appreciate the sight of his partner in a tight-fitting pair of satin women's underwear. They were snug on the other man's body, just like they were snug on Dean when he wore them enjoying how the material felt as it slid over his skin even though he usually only wore them when he was alone because there was no way in hell he was going to go out in public with the raging hard-on he always got when he was in them.

The material clung to Cas like a second skin, curving over his ass and past his hipbones until it met the insistent bulge of the other man's arousal pressing hard into the fabric that outlined every detail of his partner's thick cock; the head that was already leaking precome making a darker, damp spot on the light colored material, the way it curved slightly towards the right, the pulsing vein that ran along the underside that always caused Castiel to moan when Dean ran his tongue or his lips over the heated flesh of his partner, the way his testicles were pulled up tight and taunt at the base because of arousal and for the simple fact that the constricting fabric didn't allow for them to be in any other position.

"See something you like?" Castiel asked hooking a finger through the last couple of buttons on the shirt that Dean was wearing and popping them open before he could register more than how the brush of the other man's touch on his skin felt like white hot metal burning him and branding him as belonging only to Castiel.

Dean swallowed hard and nodded, letting Castiel push the shirt off of his shoulders and onto the floor, tugging him back towards the bed by the waistband of his jeans with a self-satisfied smirk on his face before he dropped back down to sit on the edge of the bed and started working open the buckle of Dean's belt, glancing up at him disapprovingly when the red boxers he was wearing were revealed.

"I have to wear underwear sometimes, Cas." Dean protested, speaking for the first time and of course it was something fucking snarky and sarcastic that just caused the other man to chuckle at him before leaning in to mouth along the curve of his erection, sucking on him through the coarse fabric and causing Dean to buck desperately into the other man's touch.

"Shit, Cas!" Dean groaned, fisting a hand into the dark hair that he loved almost as much as the lip biting and the head tilting, watching as the other man peeled his boxers down his legs until they puddled around his ankles with his jeans. "Fuck...how long have you been here?"

"Long enough to snoop," Castiel murmured, running his lips over Dean's length, swiping his tongue out to lave over the swollen head and gather the precome that had beaded at the tip.

His glasses were slipping down his nose and when Cas looked up at him over them Dean thought he was going to come right there, this was all of his teacher and librarian fantasies paired with his secret kink and he didn't know how long he was going to last with Castiel stroking him and teasing him wearing those fucking panties before he came all over the other man's chiseled face in a way that would make porn stars jealous. Dean let out a strangled gasp when his partner bobbed down on his dick, taking in more on that first pass then should be humanly possible, before pushing Castiel down and back onto the bed, kicking out of his jeans and pressing his mouth hungrily against the other man's, tasting salt and rain and all of the little things that made kissing Cas unique and addicting.

Dean ground his hips down against the satin covered ones of the other man, reveling in the feeling of the cool fabric against his heated skin before he decided that as much as he liked how that felt he would like being pressed against Castiel with nothing between them better. He pushed the panties down as quickly as possible, not even caring when he heard them rip in his haste to get them off and slotted his cock against Castiel's who was keening and whimpering deliciously into his mouth, raking his short nails down his back and over his ass, pulling them closer and tighter together as they thrust and sought to lose themselves in each other.

"God, sweetheart," Dean panted pressing his forehead against Castiel's and fighting back his orgasm so that he enjoy this before it was over and he had to start questioning how Cas had managed to sneak past Crowley, what deals with the devil had he made to pull this off? "You're so fucking sexy...want you so bad..."

"Fuck me, Dean." Castiel groaned, using that filthy perfect mouth to his benefit because he knew that it drove the other man crazy to hear him talk like that. "I want you inside me...want to...fucking hell...feel you come."

Dean didn't think that he had ever moved faster in his life, diving across the bed towards his nightstand and pulling out the lube that was nestled there against his sex toys and the box of unopened condoms that he and Cas hadn't ever bothered to use. Most of the time it was so spur of the moment that the last thing Dean wanted was to wait while the other man fumbled with the latex barrier that would keep him from feeling Cas come apart inside him. He knew that he was clean, the dry spell leading up to his first time with Castiel had allowed him plenty of time to get tested like he had taken to doing every couple of months, just in case even though with his one night stands he always used protection.

Something about sex with Cas felt different though, like it was permanent and life-altering and even if this didn't work out how he hoped, Dean wasn't sure he would ever want someone in the same ways he wanted Cas again. He trusted that Castiel would have told him if he needed to worry about a STD or HIV, what kind of gay man didn't tell their partner about that kind of thing before going bareback?

A fucking psychopath, that's who. An inconsiderate, asshole who didn't care how many people he took down with him on his path to self-destruction. Dean had met a few of those in his time and he had run as far and as fast as humanly possible, to this day he still wondered how close he had come to getting some permanent affliction and Bobby's fears for his safety didn't seem so absurd then.

But Cas wouldn't do that to him and Dean felt safe enough to make love to the other man without fear of catching something because that's just what this was, love. In its most sincere form, uncovered and open and trusting to the point of stupidity probably, but that still didn't make him grab a condom before pulling Castiel back into another kiss, settling the other man's muscled legs around his hips before he trailed his lubed slickened fingers down to his partner's entrance.

He tried to be gentle even though the animalistic part of him was screaming out and telling him just to drive himself as deep and as hard as he could into Castiel, claiming him in the most intimate way possible, but Dean didn't; taking his time to marvel at the way Cas's body adjusted to the intrusion of first one finger and then a second, making needy adorable sounds that had him kissing softly at the other man's neck and collarbones, being tender because he knew how much the other man might already be hurting.

Cas didn't hiss in pain until he slipped a third finger in, stretching and urging the tight ring of muscle to relax so that it wouldn't hurt as badly when he finally pushed into the other man. Dean paused then, brows furrowing when he saw how his lover was biting his lip in a way that was not endearing and cute, but masking the ache that Dean had long ago gotten used to when he got fucked by guys who looked like they wouldn't be shy about driving into him hard, but usually disappointed him.

"Sorry," Castiel forced out, letting out a heavy breath and rolling his hips down onto Dean's hands with a determined look on his face. "It's been a long time since I've...y'know."

"Yea," Dean nodded, swallowing back the emotion because if it had been a while since Cas bottomed then that meant that he didn't usually even though his suggestive smirks and leading comments had always said differently. "I kinda guessed that, sweetheart."

Castiel let out a self-deprecating chuckle, looking anywhere but at Dean. It was that bravado of James Collins coming out, hiding how much this actually meant, letting Dean take him in this way because he wasn't used to giving up control like that. Dean leaned down and kissed all of the parts of Cas's face that he could reach, ending up at his mouth where he muttered the words and endearments that he knew would bring back out the man he loved instead of the character that he pretended to be for everyone else. He smiled when he felt Cas relax against him, sliding a hand into his hair and nodding that he was ready when Dean asked him.

Dean grabbed more lube, spreading it over his painfully hard cock before lining himself up to Castiel's loosened hole, pushing into the other man at a snail's pace so that he could adjust to the larger pressure that was filling him. The other man was just so tight and the feeling of being buried in Cas was so overwhelming that the slow pace helped Dean too, forced him to grit his teeth and tamp down the lust that was telling him it would only take a couple of hard, fast thrusts before he was spent, before he could reach that beautiful, blinding plateau of his arousal and fall into his orgasm in the next breath.

But he didn't, instead he held onto one of Castiel's thighs firmly, keeping the other man in the position he wanted him and sliding his other hand up to cup his lover's face reverently when he bottomed out inside of him with a soft slap of his balls against the other man's body. Dean didn't move until he heard Cas's breathing even out, saw his features slip out of the half-pained, half-pleasured expression that they had fallen into and relax into that quirk of full, pink lips that he would never not want to kiss even if a thousand paparazzo's had their cameras pointed at them, ready to make Castiel's career dissolve back into nothingness with a single, fateful click.

"Okay, Dean." Castiel breathed beneath him, running his hands soothingly over the muscles in Dean's back that were shaking from the effort it was taking him to not move and claim and take and own. "Go, I'm good."

He pulled out just as slow as he had pushed in, groaning when he felt muscles clench around his cock, trying to keep him inside the hot cavern that was Castiel's body. Dean heard Castiel moan beneath him, pushing his head back into the pillows and arching his back when he slid home a little more forcefully than the first time, increasing the pace and intensity of his thrusts until he was pounding solidly into the other man, searching for the angle that would make all of this worth it for Cas.

Dean hiked Castiel's leg higher up on his hips, feeling the other man's heels dig into the base of his spine when his lover let out a low groan and clutched at his bicep like it was the only thing that would keep him from drowning. Cas's other hand moved down between them, running over Dean's chest pausing long enough to roll the larger man's nipples between his thumb and index finger before he wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking it in time with Dean's frantic thrusts.

"Fuck...Dean, yes right fucking there," Castiel muttered, hot and gravely in to his ear before nipping his jaw, grazing his teeth along the stubble in a way that just made Dean growl in reply because speech had long ago abandoned him when he surrendered to his more primal need to make Cas cry out his name and writhe beneath him.

It had never been this strong before, the need that he got with some of his partners to make sure they never forgot him; to mark them and write his name on their skin so that everyone else would stay the fuck away from what was his. Dean pressed his mouth to Castiel's pulse point, sucking softly at the thrumming vein beneath the other man's skin; fighting back the urge to leave tell-tale bruises up and down the other man's pale neck because how the fuck would it look if he went into film on Monday with hickeys all over him and where would Cas tell Crowley he had gotten them?

He settled for keeping his mouth pressed there instead, feeling the heartbeat of the other man through his lips and around his cock and against his chest even though the sensations all started to blur together because his own heart was racing too.

"Cas, baby." Dean panted against the other man's skin, feeling his lover meet his thrusts with desperate whimpers as his hand flew over his cock between them. "Shit...tell me you're close, sweetheart, tell me you're fucking close."

"Jesus fuck Dean..." Castiel murmured gruffly, turning his head and breaking Dean away from where his mouth was against his neck so that he could kiss him, biting hard at his bottom lip and plundering his mouth with his tongue in a way that he could never do exactly how he liked when he was pounding into Dean from behind.

Cas thrust into his hand, slick with precome and sweat, grinding his hips down onto Dean's cock with the neediest of whines that warned the other man as he came spilling all over his fist and both of their abdomens as Dean drove against his prostate with a possessive strength that made him more sure than ever that this was right, that what he had with the bartender was worth all of the trouble that all of this was going to be in the long run and that every single one of his few boyfriends in Boston had been wrong when they said he wasn't worth waiting around on; waiting until he gave up the pipe dream of acting and finally picked a real job.

He felt all of his muscles clenching around Dean, pulling him in and urging him deeper when he came and rode out the aftershocks as the other man rocked his hips into him through Cas's orgasm and afterwards when Dean groaned above him and buried his face in his neck, coming with sudden throbs against his oversensitive prostate that made the actor gasp brokenly against the other man's hair.

It was just so much, all of the feelings; not just the physical ones like the gentle, sleepy kisses that he got from Dean or the way the other man was even now running his hand softly over his thigh and up his hip to stroke his side as he gasped for breath against his neck still buried in him and connecting them so their hearts beat in tandem. But it was the way that even hearing Dean's voice made his heart soar, how the dumbstruck look on the other man's face when he had walked in the door and found Cas already waiting there was one he wanted to see in settings that were less lust-fueled and frenzied, more domestic. Like maybe watching Dean open a Christmas gift that he hadn't been expecting or seeing the other man's eyes widen when he thanked his partner in his acceptance speech if he ever won an award that meant something. Castiel had never wanted to do those things with another person so badly in his life.

When Dean moved off of him, rolling to the side and pulling Cas with him, snug against his chest with an arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders, Castiel tried not to glance at the clock on Dean's nightstand. Tried not to calculate how much longer he could stay before he had to go back to the house and Crowley and Balthazar, pretending that he wasn't in love with someone he shouldn't be and acting like it wasn't the hardest thing he had ever done to be away from Dean. But he did, squinting through his glasses that were smudged with impressions from both his and his partner's face when they had kissed during sex.

He knew the exact moment when Dean came to the same realization above him, the resigned sigh and the slight tightening of the other man's arm around his shoulder made him want to say fuck it, call Crowley and tell him to shove his hypocritical bullshit right where it counted, but he knew that the other man wasn't going to let him sabotage his own career because it was Dean who pulled him out of the bed and pushed him gently towards the tiny, much less complex shower.

Dean who was wordlessly waiting in the living room with his clothes folded neatly on his lap and looking like someone had just run over his puppy when he got out. It was Dean who kissed him like he wanted to breathe him in, even though Castiel still didn't know how someone could smell so much like home without ever having been to the East coast. They said goodbye to each other softly, muttering more declarations of love than either of them ever had before when they had been parting company with one of their past boyfriends.

It took twenty minutes more than it should have for Cas to get dressed and out the door of the apartment, just smirking in response when Dean asked him again how he had managed to get in without a key and turning down the offer of being walked to the town car because he hadn't parked in the parking garage in his haste to get into the building before Dean got home and Castiel didn't know if he could stand to say another goodbye without kissing the other man for good measure too.

The drive back to the house and his overbearing agent who was fucking sleeping with the man who was going to be his boss for the foreseeable future should have been miserable, but it wasn't because Dean kept texting Cas weird little things like a screen shot of a Words with Friend's game taken very seriously and his horoscope for the next day, which said he would meet a helpful stranger.

He had found out that that first stream of texts from the other man, asking for his birthday and other various details had been so that one of the bar's regular's, an astrologist cum psychic named Pam, could do a compatibility reading for him and the green-eyed Aquarius. Cas and Alfie had made fun of Dean all week for being so superstitious, earning a scowl from the bartender who told them to laugh it up, he didn't like to leave things to chance. Castiel had filed away the memory of Dean tossing spilt salt over his shoulder while he cooked, vowing to himself that he would never again open an umbrella indoors as long as he was with the other man.

Sneaking back into the house wasn't hard at all, even less hard than breaking into Dean's apartment had been and no one had been around to hear that. He covered his ears and speed-walked as fast as he could down the hallway towards his bedroom, blocking out the sounds of Crowley and Balthazar who must know some insane tantric trick if they were still going strong hours after he had left to go see Dean. His last text from the other man had been gibberish, the only real words being 'pie' and 'loveyousofuckingmuch' all strung together, rushed out in the same way that his partner would have said it right before pulling him into a lemon meringue flavored kiss.

Castiel debated about whether or not to call Dean one last time before trying to go to sleep in the bed that felt obnoxiously massive without another person sharing it with him, but he was scared of Crowley hearing him talking to someone through the door, barging in without knocking like he was wont to do and catching him being sentimental and love-struck on the phone with Dean. So he didn't, stripping off the clothes he had been wearing and rummaging out one of Dean's shirts that Alfie had squirreled away at the bottom of his laundry hamper while Cas had been giving the two other men a tour of the rest of the house.

He fell into bed wearing it, feeling more than a little like a silly schoolboy and wondering exactly what it was going to take before the urge to be wrapped up in Dean faded away; hoping that it never would as he drifted off to sleep with a contended smile and the smell of autumn all around him.

* * *

The fact that this was a profession amused him, brought something that was as close to a smile to his face as his thin, grimace bound lips could muster. It was ridiculous, laughable; something that self-obsessed twenty somethings did when they were busy wasting their working class parent's money on courses like 'Perspectives in Subject Expression' and 'Through the Fish Eye: A History of Lens Technique'.

But it suited his purposes, allowed him to get close to the people he wanted to get close to without being noticed.

Family inheritances were created for black sheep like him, to keep them quiet and out of the limelight that the people he took pictures of craved. Their privacy was worth less to them than the paper the trashy gossip rags that lauded their exploits were to anyone with half a brain. The innocent people that they dragged into their lives only to be cast aside later when they had served their purpose were what really interested him, helped him find the perverse satisfaction that he craved in the tears they shed when the actors and actresses eventually left them to move on to something better and bigger and just as famous as they were.

He hadn't been doing this for long, the whole paparazzi thing. It was more of a way for him to kill time, stave off the boredom until he found what he was looking for. He had never been very picky about his toys, he just liked for them to be pretty and stupid and too naive to realize that they were in over their heads. No, he hadn't been doing this for long. But he still loved being the one who knocked the liars off their pedestals, sending them crashing down into the teeming mass of humanity that enjoyed watching them fall just as much as they envied seeing them soar.

* * *

She kept her head down, she did what she was told. She kept her dang nose clean, at least now she did after that whole to-do with Richard Roman Enterprises back in Chicago had made her pack up and hit the road again, choosing England because even though they extradited, the Brits seemed a little more sympathetic to the whole Robin Hood thing she had been trying to pull off by funneling money out of the company's shady off-shore accounts and into various charities that she liked.

It had worked, Dick's accountants had only found out about the donations to more obvious culprits like PETA and Share Our Strength and Greenpeace, not about all of the hundreds of other little organizations that she liked. The ones that rebuilt cities in third-world countries and gave out vaccinations to kids in Africa, Charlie was still pretty proud of the fact that all of those were still receiving anonymous donations every quarter courtesy of the sleazy businessmen that she used to work for. And it's not like the multi-billion dollar corporation could rescind their donations to the bigger charities if they wanted to save face about being bamboozled, so even those still got their money.

It was even worth killing off her old identity of Julia Shelley to pull the whole thing off and now she was content to work for an eccentric British filmmaker because really, she deserved a frackin' break from being the only vigilante do-gooder that she knew of. What she hadn't counted on was ending up back in the states, trailing after her boss with a pained expression because the last thing she needed was to get recognized and hauled off to a dungeon in Dick Roman's basement somewhere.

And she really hadn't expected to end up in the kitchen of the founder of one of the charities that she supported, flipping French toast for Balthazar because it was the only dang breakfast food she knew how to make and he was just going to have to buy her some freaking cookbooks if his new boyfriend was getting tired of it. Not that she had known that she was standing in the kitchen of James Collins, also known as Castiel Krushnic, also known by Mishka but that was just by his paternal grandmother who was Russian and used to call him her little bear.

What? Charlie was just very good at snooping in people's lives. It was what she had made a living at for a long stinkin' time, supporting herself after her parents died in a car accident when she was sixteen and she created her first fake identity, Elena Torrance, a homage to Stanley Kubrick that almost got her arrested by a very nerdy policeman in Phoenix, when she had let an ex-girlfriend talk her into testing out exactly how genuine her fake ID looked at a bar there.

She hadn't even known it was his showy, frankly so big it was borderline offensive house until he walked into the kitchen with his hair all sleep mused, scratching at the stubble on his face as he yawned and stretched in a faded, oil stained Led Zepplin shirt. When she realized who it was, she panicked just a little bit not because he was pretty much her favorite underrated actor of all time right after Lizzy Caplan who she just thought was beautiful and ballsy and brave, but because _he _freaked out; flinching so hard that he dropped the phone that he had been smiling down at in his other hand and jumping about a foot into the air.

"Who the ever loving fuck are you?" James Collins, freaking selfless saint of a man that he was (he had done that bee documentary for practically nothing after all) asked in a sleep-strained voice looking at her like she was about to axe-murder him with the spatula she was holding.

"Charlie," She muttered weakly, dropping the spatula and waving at him meekly from the other side of the kitchen island separating them. "I...uh...work for Mr. Roche."

She fought off all the questions she had for the other man like what was it like to be on a first name basis with Christopher Nolan (who even Charlie had met once at some brunch thing that Balthazar insisted he needed her at, but she hadn't talked to him because he bossed around Batman!) and why hadn't he come out of the closet yet because even she had found out that he was gay within like twenty minutes of intensive Googling so it was just a matter of time before at least one reporter stopped being lazy and asked why he hadn't been snatched up yet. Charlie pushed away those questions because her year working for Balthazar had taught her that famous people were notoriously skittish so she had perfect a way of approaching them like they were frightened bunnies, slow and soothing and bearing food.

"I'm making French toast. Do you want some?" She asked gesturing towards the large stack of golden, toasted bread that she had already finished and the assorted toppings she had picked up at a farmer's market on her way over to the address that her boss had texted her.

James (Jimmy? Castiel? What did he go by when he was at home? The necessity of stage names had never sat very well with her, but Charlie figured she wasn't one to talk since it's not like Charlene Bradbury was her real name either.) looked at the food warily, eyeing it like the poison that she must have put into could become airborne at any moment and kill him where he stood. Charlie picked up a piece that had mostly cooled out of the middle of the pile and took a big bite out of it, smiling around the mouthful of food when the other man nodded to himself and moved to grab a plate that he loaded up like he had never seen a home cooked meal in his life.

But that couldn't be right either. There had been dishes in the sink when she got here and more in the dishwasher when she had gone to load the ones she rinsed, enough that it suggested that the actor could cook or maybe that someone had been cooking for him. She inner fan-girled just a bit at the thought of meeting James friggin' Collins's boyfriend, there weren't a lot of openly gay celebrities in America, not nearly as many as there were in Europe and Charlie didn't think there was ever any chance of her meeting Ellen DeGeneres because then she would just have to die of happiness.

But this could work, this would do. Charlie spotted a blonde head bobbing around in the backyard, following along the path that led to the guesthouse that she had seen through the kitchen window and that was probably him. Young, okay maybe James Collins was a bit of a cougar, nothing wrong with that. The actor didn't even give the blonde guy more than a cursory glance when he walked in though, the newcomer mumbling a good morning and quirking a questioning eyebrow at Charlie that James just shrugged at before turning back to his phone, tapping away on the lit up keypad and huffing out an amused chuckle at something he saw there.

Oh, so that's how it was.

Well...maybe she would just see how all of this played out then, especially since she didn't miss how the blonde guy cleared his throat pointedly when Balthazar's lastest conquest walked into the room, making a beeline for the actor who stashed away his phone like he was bored with it, but Charlie didn't miss how his hand shook either when he did that. It was like one of those Lifetime movies that her mom used to watch, secrets and intrigue and there wasn't any magic or Hobbits, but Charlie could get behind this, especially if she got to play the spunky, wise-beyond-her-years sidekick. Batgirl was just as awesome as Robin was after all and her costume was WAY better anyway.

* * *

Author Note: So I realize that most of this is unapologetic porn, but I tried to pepper in enough plot that we could move ahead now that I've gotten over the worst of my hot guys in panties phase. To all of you who stay with me now that you know exactly how weird I am I love you, to everyone who gives me up as hopeless I'm sorry! The panties (probably) won't appear in any of my other fics, I promise. Kisses and hugs to you all either way, you're kings and queens amongst men.


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